


Defending the Shadows

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Vampire Hunters, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years since a virus turned some of the infected dead into vampires, hunters rose and formed groups to protect the living. It kept the vampire numbers lower than they would have been otherwise, but they were still far too dangerous. Natasha Romanoff, newly transferred to New York City, knew all this. But some of her beliefs were about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The City That Never Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gifset on Tumblr](http://stilluncomfortable.tumblr.com/post/118806244204). Warning for mentions of suicide, violence and mayhem in line with various vampire myths where they don't sparkle.

Natasha Romanoff wished magic was real. That would make hunting so much easier, as spells could bottle sunlight, enchant weapons with necromantic power, possibly reverse the curse binding the undead into their bodies. Assuming it was a curse; no one ever questioned the creatures as to their origins, so there were only rumors to go by. She had been trained since early childhood to fight vampires and whatever other uglies could walk the night. Ivan used to tell her that he rescued her form a vampire trying to eat her family. It had definitely killed her mother, and her father had been missing but too much blood had been spilled. Ivan had staked the vampire and cut off its head, then burned down the house just to be sure it—and years later, Natasha understood the implication about feeding and potentially being turned—and no one else rose to stalk the living.

Raised with a veritable army, the lithe red haired and green-eyed girl grew into a solemn young woman. A number of their army had fallen over the years, and Natasha's lovers Nicholai and Alexei had been among them. She had been the one to find Nicholai, bled dry into a husk of a man, and had to desecrate the body to ensure he didn't rise. The trauma had broken her in a way that seeing ravaged strangers hadn't. She retreated into herself, barely eating, sleeping, or moving. Then, to compound her horror, she lost the child she hadn't even realized she had been carrying. The despair had been utterly complete, devastating her; Alexei had saved her from hanging herself.

From there, they had comforted each other and became something of a fixture in the Red Room hunter's cell. Older hunters wished them well, knowing happiness was all too fleeting. Alexei was a strong warrior within the group, with the code name Red Guardian. He saved so many lives, and was considered a hero to the people. At his side, Natasha became the Red Avenger, or Russian Avenger when she was spoken of outside of Russia. She cared about people, tried hard to save them from the creatures hiding in the dark.

And when Alexei was killed in a spectacularly brutal fashion, dismembered and decapitated, Natasha began being called the Black Widow.

Isolating herself didn't stop the whispers. Anyone romantically involved with her eventually would be marked for death. Friends were safe for the most part, but crueler tongues listed her parents and unborn child as other lives lost to her cursed touch. She held herself aloof and strong while in public, but it _hurt_ and she fell apart in private.

Knowing her resolve to save her fellow Russians was fading, Ivan took to the radios. He found someone willing to take her on, a Nicholas Fury in America. He was the leader of the main American force known as SHIELD; they didn't operate in separate isolated cells as they did in Russia. Then again, Americans were sure of themselves and their ability to stop master vampires with little outside help. The Russians and Europeans were aware that cooperation was key when the enemy could run fast, ensorcel minds and had incredible strength and stamina. A vampire could easily cross multiple borders in an evening.

"I heard about you," Fury said when Natasha arrived. He was a tall black man, dressed perpetually in black tactical gear, a black eye patch covering the damaged socket. Rumor said a vampire's claw did the damage, and Fury had still cut him open and ripped out his heart. Natasha could believe he was capable of such a thing.

Natasha remained silent, even when Fury clearly expected her to speak. Silence tended to unnerve people, but she wasn't interested in making any friends. She wanted to kill vampires, save humans, and hope to whatever God that might exist that her conscience could be wiped clean someday.

"Strong, silent, deadly," Fury continued, unperturbed by her silence. "What I didn't hear is why you left Russia when their infestation is pretty damn horrific."

"My past is my own," Natasha said in low, flat tones, "and you'll never know what I was before."

"Dramatic," Fury remarked dryly. "I think I have a good team for you to join up. They call themselves the Avengers."

Natasha startled internally, blinked externally. "Who are they?"

"Clint Barton's the sniper. His call sign's Hawkeye. Bruce Banner is our biochemist, and he's stronger than he looks. Some people call him Hulk. Steve Rogers is former Army. His squad got decimated wiping out a nest, so he transferred to us. Captain Rogers is a damn fine tactician, so listen to what he says. Tony Stark does munitions for the team, and fights in some kind of armor. Crazy SOB, but effective. Sometimes Thor Odinson comes in, and his girlfriend Jane Foster studied pathophysiology of the virus causing vampirism."

"Virus?" Natasha echoed, startled.

"Well, yeah. How else would they create new vamps?"

"Stories tell they feed on mortals, then the bodies rise if not cleansed."

"Meaning burned."

"Among other things."

"She's trying to find a way to reverse it," Fury told her. "Bruce is working with her, some kind of side project. No need to lose good people if we can help it."

"Who was lost?" Natasha asked, curious.

"Hank Pym. His wife couldn't handle the reminders, so Janet moved to another team just last month. That's why we advertised for a new fighter."

"You spoke with Ivan."

"Good fighter, mostly solo work, he said. Think you can work on a team?"

"If I have to."

"I have a number of good teams under my command. We couldn't keep the major cities safe otherwise," Fury told her.

"And the smaller cities? Or the country?" Natasha asked, recalling the empty houses she'd seen in Russia while on the road.

Fury's lips twisted into a grimace. "We can't always get out that way. By now, most people know that living in the country equals being survivalists. Or living in goddamn bunkers overnight. Most of 'em were preppers before the virus hit."

Natasha hadn't heard the term before, but understood what it meant in context. "So what territory does the Avengers patrol?"

"Manhattan. Spider Squad's got Queens. Brooklyn's got the Fantastic Four. Staten Island's got the Dump Squad. The X Men patrol the Bronx and Westchester."

"Dump Squad?"

"Half the island's a landfill," Fury replied drolly. "Hey, they picked it, not me. Charles Xavier has it handled up north, and Long Island's got a handful of vigilantes at work."

"I'm surprised you're not sending me to Queens." At his blank look, Natasha smiled thinly. "Black Widow is my most common alias."

"Not the only one," Fury replied with a shrug. "And someone needs to keep the boys in line. They're self-destructive fools to a one."

"I'm not a babysitter," Natasha snapped. "I've killed ravenous vampires with no other weapons than my bare hands. I'm not here to keep boys from being stupid."

"Hear, hear," came a playful voice behind her.

Natasha turned slowly, unamused. She hadn't heard footsteps approach, and she immediately realized why; he was hanging out of the ceiling vent. The man was blond, with warm brown eyes, and she could tell he was fairly well built by the way he was hanging out of the vent. That took great arm and core muscle strength to stay so steady.

"Hawkeye," she guessed, seeing arm guards strapped on. By his grin, it was correct. "I take it you're not interested in a babysitter."

"Aw, hell no. Nobody signs up for this job to play it safe. Most of us here have got nothing left to lose. _That's_ what bothers Fury."

He didn't deny it, but was clearly irritated. "Barton..." he began in a warning tone.

"I actually came looking for you because Coulson's back with a bus full of recruits. Your secretary didn't believe me when I said you'd want to know."

"Don't call Maria a secretary," Fury growled. She'll gouge out your eyes if you do."

"Obviously, I like to live dangerously," Clint snarked. "Hey, new girl. Once he's done scaring the pants off you, come to the eighty-fifth floor. That's residential. Most of us are hanging around while daylight's out. If you want, you can come on patrol after sundown."

A patrol on her first day? Perfect.

"I'll be there," she promised, making Fury scowl.

"Fantastic. It'll be a party."

"Don't lose your fool head just when you've got here," Fury warned her. "New York City is not like Russia."

"Vampires are vampires," she replied evenly. "They're dead and need to be put down for good."

"Plenty of good people die thinking the same thing. But out here, they're smart. Their nests are protected, they've got a network. Every nest of 'em we smoke out, another takes its place. And I don't think we're just emptying out New Jersey's supply."

"Eleven million people in Manhattan alone," Natasha reminded him, voice still even. "It's not hard to find replacement cannon fodder."

"Maybe not," Fury sighed. "Just don't be one of them and don't be part of the menu."

"Not part of my game plan," she agreed.

***

There was no official floor eighty-five; elevators only ran to eighty-four. She went by stairwell from there, and Natasha approved of the paranoia. The hunters made sure their living quarters were protected, just in case the scientists on the lower floors sold them out.

Clint had some beers and handed her one. "Fantastic. Let's do introductions."

It was amazing how cheerful he seemed to be, given the morbid line of work he was in. Tony drank far too much scotch the entire time, eyes dark and shadowed. He apparently had an artificial heart thanks to a particularly vicious attack that left him nearly dead. He still had the family company to help fund the team and give him an air of legitimacy. Pepper Potts, his able assistant, ran the company in his name and kept up the funds for his weapons research. The strawberry blonde had feelings for him, that much Natasha could tell on sight, but it was difficult to tell if she was a tempering influence on him at all. Tony's best friend Rhodey wasn't present, as he was part of the US Air Force. He apparently visited as often as he could, and kicked serious vampire ass.

Steve was a tall, muscular blond man with such sincerity and devotion to the cause that it was blinding. He'd signed up for vampire elimination squads on multiple occasions since age twelve, and eventually his best friend Bucky was drafted in. Steve wrangled his way in, and the two had been assigned to Brooklyn. The Howling Commandoes kept the streets safe, and had an impressive kill rate until the night they were ambushed, much of the team slaughtered. The only part of Bucky left that Steve had found had been an arm; having that in the coffin had to have been cold comfort for the Barnes family. It certainly was no comfort to Steve.

Bruce was quiet, with no outward sign of the "stunning rage issues" that people talked about. Natasha didn't doubt it was there, but likely the circumstances that triggered his rage weren't met. Tony was a bit of an ass, explaining to Natasha that Colonel Ross of the US Army used to contract Bruce's services to try to find toxins to bring down vampires. When he fell in love with his fellow researcher, Betty Ross, the general sent him away, canceling the research contract. He didn't want anyone with his daughter, full stop, and there was no explanation why. The abrupt departure looked bad on _Bruce's_ record, so it had been impossible to find a new post until Fury snapped him up. Fury and Ross were often at odds, and no one else in Ross' research division could come close to Bruce's intellect.

"Ross is a self-serving ass," Tony declared while Bruce glowered at him. "I could use a scotch. You want some, Romanoff? Or is it stereotypical to offer the Russian vodka?"

"It's what we have," she replied evenly. "But I'll drink that."

Steve and Pepper both appeared disapproving, but remained silent. Natasha downed the scotch quickly, ignoring the burn of the alcohol down her throat. "Thank you," she said with a dismissive tone. "Let me settle in, sleep for a while, then we can patrol. Teach me the rhythms of the city I'll defend."

"But—" Pepper began.

"I'll need at least six hours of sleep, though I've gotten by with less. If you want my reflexes at their sharpest, though, I'd really prefer eight hours of sleep."

Steve's eyes shone with approval. He must have been relieved she wasn't a drunk like Tony. Natasha was no soldier, not really, but wanted to work. She wanted to _hunt._ These people didn't know her history of loss and heartbreak. She was a fighter, perhaps a spy, and she was a welcome addition to a reduced team.

Clint passed her a shot glass. "One on me."

"Not hard to do with it's my booze, Barton," Tony snarked.

Natasha slammed it back. "Rotgut," she declared with approval, smiling at him. "I like it. Later, we can improve on your recipe."

"What are you doing making alcohol when I have top shelf liquor right here?" Tony groused.

"I like making things," Clint replied easily. To Natasha, it sounded like an oft-repeated argument that would never really be settled. "C'mon, Natasha, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

The suite of rooms was sparsely furnished, but everything was tastefully done in high quality material. Natasha assumed they were Pepper's doing. Natasha threw her bags down and face planted onto the bed. The pillow was plus, covers soft and warm. Exhausted from travel, Natasha immediately fell asleep.

***

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Natasha learned the ins and outs of her new city, feeling the rhythm of an ordinary night and what it felt like when the undead were near. She met the others stalking vampires in the shadows, singly or in pairs, not having or caring about official SHIELD sanction. They were glad to meet her. "Fresh blood on the street is good," the man calling himself Daredevil had said with a smile when they met. "We get so used to now things are, we sometimes forget weirdness."

"Forget weirdness," Natasha had echoed dubiously.

"Seriously. It happens," he assured her.

"If I ever lose my edge, tell me and get me off the street."

"Will do," he said. They worked together off and on after that, mostly if Hell's Kitchen seemed to be overrun with undead or mafiosos. Steve wasn't the stickler that Tony thought he was, and hadn't minded the team up at all.

Steve only cared about getting the job done, saving the people from the horrors in the dark. He had a wicked sense of humor, so Natasha often found herself on patrols with him and Clint. Bruce was in the lab a lot, and Tony had his own lab to design and create armor. Occasionally he came out with them, encased in his flashy metallic armor. That certainly made it harder for vampires to bite into him, and Natasha asked him to come up with gauntlets and a neck guard for her. She couldn't do the same level of armor that he used for her fighting style. Of course that meant he not only developed a pair of gauntlets that had tasers, grappling hooks, knockout gas, transmitters and single shot guns, but he also made an entire suit of reinforced Kevlar for her. Blades could still rend the material, but it was harder for teeth and nails to rip her apart. The jumpsuit even had a high collar, protecting her neck. The gauntlets shone gold against the black of her jumpsuit, and the utility belt was also gold. Tony painted a red hourglass on the center of the buckle in honor of the Black Widow moniker. "It's a deadly spider," he'd told her defensively when she questioned him about it. "Wasn't that why you picked it?"

They thought this identity was a choice. They thought she wanted to be a deadly loner, wanted to be a fearsome killer. Better that than cursed to die alone and mocked, she supposed.

"It's thoughtful," she told the anxious Tony. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, your suit doesn't have much ornamentation otherwise."

That was certainly true. The holsters for her Glock 19 and 22 pistols and extra magazines were all black. She didn't personalize the grips on the pistols, which were black, and even her throwing knives and the tactical blades all had matte black handles. "Fits the Black Widow moniker," she had replied with a slight smile. "Though in Russia, they also called me the Red Avenger for a while."

Tony grinned at that. "And we're the Avengers. And you have red hair. Kismet! I love it!"

"Why did you choose the name Avengers, anyway?"

"Because if we can't save the people of New York, we're damn well going to avenge them," Tony immediately replied.

"Makes sense."

Names conferred identity, belonging, camaraderie, teamwork. There hadn't been such a thing for her team in Russia. The Red Room group was an identifier, but she didn't feel the same sense of camaraderie. If anything, there was competition, bullying, and backstabbing to be the top hunter. The leaderboards hadn't meant anything to Natasha, but it had to the others. Having her name at the top when she didn't even care about it seemed to be insult to injury for them. Here, it was more of a friendly challenge if they even kept track.

In the downtime between patrols, they trained or relaxed. Natasha went through records Pepper kept on the team dynamics, and also whatever SHIELD databases Fury let her have access to. He must have trusted her pretty well, as she had scarily high access without having to hack her way in. That was possibly Ivan's doing, penance for introducing her to her dead lovers. He might have introduced them, but Natasha had been the one to love them, to mourn them when they died.

A rash of attacks on the Upper West Side began to occur about four months after Natasha arrived. At first, the wealthy citizens had wanted to use their private security teams; the Avengers got the job done, but sometimes there was property damage and the injury of innocent bystanders. As fall moved into winter and the attacks continued, however, the wealthy Upper West Siders had to admit they needed help. Their expensive security teams were turning up dead, sprays of blood and missing limbs terrifying the privileged children; there had always been dead and dying in the projects, unfortunately. Police retreated once night fell, and the commissioner defended the action, stating they were trained to deal with drug dealers and mortal wrongdoers, not supernatural monsters lurking in the shadows. Outdoor crimes and the homeless population had plummeted, but it soon became a credible and terrifying threat to lock someone outside of building after nightfall.

Natasha remembered that tactic in Russia. It kept women with abusive spouses, gave the mafia incredible power at night. She remembered beating a few men that beat their wives, then kicking them out of windows (open or not) or off a roof. She would impassively look down at the broken bodies, knowing the shifting shadows would finish them off. Those foul men also served as wonderful lures to draw out nests of vampires for their teams to hunt down and destroy.

For most people, even with the vampires, life continued uninterrupted. Bars on windows and armored cars were commonplace now, and any third shift job now included hazard pay bonuses to keep people on staff. The Avengers, managed by SHIELD, had generous government pay and benefits, though the government generally saved a lot in bonuses or benefits because of the low life expectancy.

She didn't care about all of that, though. The imposing brownstones and high rises hid a new nest of vampires; there was no other reason for there to be so many new dead bodies and deaths. Older and wiser vampires hid their predations, allowing them to escape undetected for a time. Natasha had a sense for hiding places, though she'd only search them in the daytime. Vampires were weakest then, and sunlight would help her eliminate the threat. The Avengers employed similar tactics, though Tony also had high intensity UV lights on his armor. They could still stalk nesting places into dusk and even after nightfall.

With the last death creeping up toward Morningside Heights, the other neighborhood and college communities were starting to fear for their lives. They requested the Avengers come in, and some students chipped in to obtain new silvered weapons. None of the Avengers had the heart to refuse them, seeing the gifts for what they were – attempts to repay the effort to keep them safe when they were unable to do it themselves. Most people they tried to help ultimately gave gifts of some kind; weapons or food were favorites, as the team could definitely use them.

Most of the deaths seemed to dot the west eighties, so the team focused their attentions in that part of the Upper West Side. Natasha looked into the basement accesses, the stairwells leading below street level, the alleys between high rises. Daredevil liked stalking alleys, with their dumpsters and piles of trash bags between pick up days. Baby vampires created by accident or kicked out of nests often landed in those areas, so it was easy pickup in Hell's Kitchen.

None of those places had yielded much in daytime, so they had all returned at dusk. As the skies darkened, the streets emptied, the shutters and bars were locked into place, and the streetlights kicked on. It was eerie; New York City nightlife used to be fabled for its restaurant, club and bar scene. The theater basked in the brightly lit glory of signs and flood lights, and Times Square had always been full after dark, even after most illicit activities had moved over to Ninth Avenue. Now, theaters partnered with local restaurants and buildings, keeping bright lights, UV flood lamps at the perimeter and hotels inside it to lure the theater crazed. Everyone else thought their lives were far too precious for that, but the theater crowd thought it was brilliant and paid the surcharges gladly.

There was none of that in the Upper West Side, though. It was largely residential, with few commercial interests. As a result, everyone paid attention to dusk times and when their building's lockout period was. The Avengers were caught outside of it, looking for vampires in the area.

Shadows shifted, and Steve had them turn on their comms. "Look alive, everyone."

"That's the easy part," Clint joked. "It's the looking dead part that's hard."

Natasha snorted and looked around, alert. "It's too quiet, even for this neighborhood."

"Think that means they got all the rats? You don't even see 'em on the subway tracks anymore," Clint replied, looking around as well.

Steve and Natasha looked at him. "The 6 line runs near here," Steve said. "I didn't check it."

"I didn't either," Natasha replied. "I focused on building and alleys."

"Not me," Clint replied as they stared at him.

"So we could be looking at a subway dweller."

"Makes sense. It's really the only place a baby vamp could hide away from us at this point," Clint pointed out.

"Which means it can go anywhere else in the city. Or if it gets to Grand Central, take a PATH train into New Jersey," Natasha intoned.

Steve slung an arm around Natasha's shoulders, a jovial and eager expression on his face. "Not if we kill it first."

Clint retrieved his collapsible bow and snapped it open. "Oh, yeah."

"Archaic," Natasha commented, patting her Glock. "I'll take these."

"Well, sure, but I can get pretty damn far. Silver bullets are a pain to smith properly, but arrowheads? Easy. Pierce their hearts and they're just as dead."

"I used to use a sword, too," Natasha remarked.

"Ah, decapitation," Steve murmured. "Definitely works. Disturbs the locals when they witness it. Too much blood."

"Is that why you use the shield?" Natasha asked. "That covers up the damage from view?"

"Part of the reason," he agreed. "The other is that it can prevent one from grabbing me and sinking his fangs into my neck."

"You don't like the neck guards?" Natasha asked curiously.

"Feels too much like I'm being choked," Steve replied, shaking his head. "I used to have asthma pretty bad as a little kid. It's kinda like that, not being able to breathe."

"That sucks," Clint muttered. "I can do the reinforced collars, at least."

Natasha brought her hand to her throat. She supposed it did feel like a fairly tight choker. But it was additional protection, and she didn't mind the feel of a choker. "As long as you stay safe, Steve," she murmured.

"That's the idea," he replied with a grin.

"This may sound counter to that," Clint began, "but I do think we should split up."

"That's a dumbass idea."

"The subways are lit with dual UV and visible light spectra. We'll cover more ground that way."

Natasha and Steve exchanged glances, and both did the mental calculations. Natasha shrugged, indicating she didn't think it would a problem to break into the locked stations to explore.

"Sam would've enjoyed this kind of thing," Steve said, pointing in the direction of the station. At Natasha's confused look, Steve smiled. "My friend, ex-paramilitary rescue in Afghanistan. Right now he's in DC, but he's planning on moving soon. He'd be a great asset to the team."

"Our own medic, huh? That's quite the coup," Natasha agreed.

"Great guy, good sense of humor," Steve said as they began to walk. "Goes by Falcon."

"I like it," she said with a smile.

"Don't tell him that," Steve teased, grinning at her. "His ego is big enough as it is."

She chuckled and looked over at Clint, whose brows had started to furrow. "See something?"

"Not sure. So let's say yes and be pleasantly surprised if nothing is actually there," Clint said quietly, hand tightening on his bow.

They all had the same sentiment, and proceeded cautiously. After all, vampires were stronger, faster and had better night vision. Descending into a closed station at night was normally a suicidal gesture, but they were trained professionals. Their training in the tower included dimly lit obstacle courses and simulated vampires. They knew what they were getting themselves into.

They jumped over the low fencing and proceeded slowly. The station was empty, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Nothing aboveground, so they climbed down the escalator steps. There were only a handful of lights on, so their eyes adjusted as they descended. By the time they got to the platform, they were used to the gloom.

The platform was empty, and there was no longer any risk of subway cars coming. Patrons generally stopped using the subway or buses at night, as Metro Transit Authority couldn't enforce security through all of its connections. Their hours now followed the length of the solar day, so the subway lines could very well be nesting sites for all vampires as far as they knew. Most fighting teams assumed that, as well as abandoned building that haven't been knocked down yet.

Splitting the platform into three, they began to search it closely, both uptown and downtown sections. Natasha nearly jumped down to the tracks on a few occasions, but looking up, she caught Steve's incredulous expression. If Clint had been in the next section, he would only encourage her to do it, and possibly do it as well. As it was, she sighed and kept to the platform, running up and down the stairs to get across and down when necessary.

"I think we're good," Clint called out from the far end of the platform.

Natasha turned her head to call out to Steve, but the shadows shifted just beyond the emergency lighting marking the station for subway drivers. "Hey, wait, I—"

The shadow had the glint of eyes, and it rushed at Natasha. She brought up her Glock 19, even managed to squeeze off a shot before it hit her. Steve and Clint ran toward her, but she knew they wouldn't reach her in time. Another shot as she took out her tactical knife, slashing upward. The sound echoed, and Natasha thought she would go deaf like Clint. Steve was screaming her name as the shadow pulled her off the platform and down onto the track.

While they avoided the third rail, the shadow spun Natasha around. She saw blood splashed on the platform, knew it wasn't hers, and felt a flash of pride.

Right before her head connected with the tiled wall, knocking her out completely.

***  
***


	2. Naming A Shadow

Natasha came to in a dingy pile of blankets on top of an old mattress. The air was dank and musty, dim light provided by subway track lighting and a lantern. She was lying in an alcove along the tracks, space that likely had once been set aside for transit workers repairing the tracks or electrical lines. While there was a lump on the side of her head from where it had connected with the wall, there were no other injuries. No bites or scratches, nothing broken. She even had all of her weapons, even the tactical knife she thought she had dropped on the tracks.

She wobbled a bit when she got to her feet, but at least remained standing. No radio or phone signals this far into the tunnel, so she couldn't get a message out.

Just as well. She didn't know where she was anyway.

Gradually, Natasha stretched and rolled all major muscle groups, taking stock of herself again. Hungry, but no rumble of subway cars yet. The first cars started at five thirty this time of year, so she guessed she was only out a few hours at most.

When she got to the edge of the alcove, the shadow was there. She tensed and had a knife ready, but all it did was stand and smile, flashing white teeth. Including fangs.

The shadow was a tall male, with pale white skin, shaggy long dark hair, dark eyes, and dark baggy clothing that hid the planes of his body from view. She vaguely remembered feeling hard muscle beneath the clothes, the strength to pull her off the platform. His eyes flicked to the knife in her hand, but he remained very still.

"Hello, Natasha," he said after a long, tense moment. "I'm Bucky."

"Who the hell is Bucky?" she asked, tone harsher than she intended.

His jaw tensed. "I think Steve would've mentioned me. James Buchanan Barnes, one of the Howling Commandoes."

"He apparently left out vampire in the description."

"Steve doesn't know," Bucky said quietly. "It would kill him if he did."

Natasha saw the way his left arm hung at his side, almost as if it didn't work properly. "Did I do that?" she asked.

Bucky shrugged. "You didn't help it, no."

"Look, Bucky—"

"I'll need a new one, I think."

That threw her. "Wait, what?"

"The scuffle that killed me a few years back..."

It suddenly clicked for Natasha. "All they found was your arm."

Bucky nodded, and undid the voluminous layers of coat, sweater and shirt. He had a well-defined musculature, and the left arm was of a skin tone that was several shades darker than his. Around the shoulder where the donor arm was fused to his torso, injected veins and thick scar tissue was present. It was an angry red, the edges of the donor arm looking almost necrotic.

"It's dying," she observed.

"I got it a year ago," he said, nodding. "They guy was dead already."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Bucky sighed. "I thought about dying, you know. Killing myself, walking into the sun. some do it on their own, when they're tired of this, apparently. But I couldn't do it. So here I am."

"Here you are," she echoed. The knife in her hand was a comforting weight as she warily contemplated him.

"I've been patrolling. Helping."

"Helping."

"Yeah." He flashed her a beautiful grin, one that made her very aware of his bare chest and the tight fit of his jeans. "Funny how there didn't used to be an echo in here."

"You're a real funny guy, eh?"

"I try to be. Not much else to do if I'm supposed to be around forever, right?" he asked. "Brooklyn's pretty much covered now that I took out a few of the bigger nests."

"You? You cleaned out Brooklyn?"

"Destroying the group that turned me was easy. They didn't expect it. And if I wasn't going to kill myself... Well, what else do I know how to do? Not much. So it was easy to move around the stations and alleys, saying I was new, getting into their hideouts, then killing them all. Kept me going for a while. Now there's only the occasional straggler into Brooklyn, and the humans can handle that pretty easily."

"So that's your plan in the city?"

"Got nothing else to do."

"And the deaths up here we're looking into?" she asked archly.

"New nest moved in from Jersey. I've been picking off the new ones, but they've been turning some of the security guys that die in their feeding frenzies."

"How many in the nest?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

"No, I really don't know. I'm pretty sure it's more than ten, but I really don't know."

More than ten. Good God, a nest that size could kill them all.

Bucky moved forward, almost faster than she could see. She nearly sank the silvered blade deep into his abdomen, but he twisted away at the last moment. His vampire arm circled her, the human one catching her wrist. "Promise me you won't tell Steve."

He was still handsome, with an intense gaze and utter sincerity as he spoke of Steve. Bucky had to have been devastating in life if he was this ridiculously pretty in death.

Natasha realized two things—one, she found _a dead body_ hot, and two, that he was waiting for an answer from her, and she had no idea what to say.

"They're going to want to know why I was taken. And why I wasn't harmed," she temporized.

He smiled, blindingly bright and beautiful in the gloom. "Well, I didn't want you to see me, but somehow you did—"

"Not clearly!" Natasha blurted.

"You can't tell Steve that I just wanted you to promise me you won't tell on me. Which sounds utterly ridiculous when I say it out loud," he chuckled.

"So what excuse would you have me give?" she asked archly.

"If you agree, I'll point you toward a smaller group of baby vamps you can kill. They're affiliated with the larger group, sort of, so it would be plausible for you to know about them."

"More than ten," Natasha said quietly.

"Yeah. Sorry I can't give you actual stats. But I take out a few of them when I can. But every time I do, they recruit more. Cut off one head, two grow back, it feels like."

"And they're hiding in plain sight."

"Pretty much. I think the main resting place is in Morningside Heights, near Columbia University."

"The kids," Natasha breathed.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Steady food and recruit supply."

"For what? Why recruit so many?"

"They're not content with the dregs of society or the occasional house that forgets to lock up. They want it all. I hear the idiots talk before I kill them. They think vampires are better than humans, and humans should be no more than servants or cattle."

"Get enough Goth kids..."

"Exactly. And to hide in plain sight, obviously a few buy into it."

"Human servants, probably fooled by the promises of forever."

Nodding, Bucky let go of her and stepped back. "You're a clever one, Natasha. Some of Steve's other teammates aren't, but those don't last too long."

"You keep track of Steve," Natasha observed.

"We grew up together. I got him out of a bunch of scrapes, and it's my fault he's in this mess."

"He's capable of doing that all on his own," Natasha informed him. She steeled herself against the sound of his laughter. He sounded so... ordinary. A sexy man living in the subway rather than a ravenous monster she had to put down.

"You are very in control of yourself," she remarked.

"I haven't lost hope that I have a purpose yet." He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her flush against his bare chest. The move startled her so badly that she dropped her knife. Her hands were against the skin of his chest, cool and smooth, not feeling too different from living skin at all. He dipped his head down to her neck, skimming his lips across the neck guard at her throat. Natasha couldn't move him at all, even if she wanted to.

And to her horror, she didn't want to.

"I know what I am, Natasha. I hear your heartbeat, I smell your blood. Your carotid's right here. I could take a sip, or I could drink it all down. I know I'm a monster. I know I haunt nightmares." Bucky stepped back abruptly, turning his face away from her. "I know. But if I destroy the bigger monsters, if I save innocent lives, then maybe I can make up for it. Maybe I can be better than what those monsters made me into."

"Redemption," Natasha murmured. "That's what you're talking about," she said, feeling a little weak in the knees.

"Yes, I guess."

"Then get me to vampires I can kill and let me do my job."

Bucky nodded, then pulled on a sweater. Leaving the other layers behind, he led her through the tunnels. Natasha kept track of which way they turned, the better to figure out where they were when she got a chance to look on Steve's subway map. She kept an eye on Bucky, admiring the way he moved, the fluid grace in his steps. They were deliberate and heavy, the purposeful steps of a killer. Hers were quiet, stealthy, a dancer turned assassin.

He nodded at her when he led her to an open area close to a subway platform. There were three vampires there, thin and gaunt, clothes in tatters. They whispered among themselves, something about promises and that Schmidt was a bastard for not keeping them. Natasha tried to creep closer to listen, but they suddenly stopped and sniffed. Crap, they could smell her.

One of them, the most able of the three, rose to his feet. Natasha slid two of her throwing knives out and threw them at the male and female vampires sprawled across the ground, too weak to get up and attempt to feed from her. They choked as the silvered blades entered their throats, and all but ensured they wouldn't join the fight against Natasha. Though Bucky claimed to be an ally, she couldn't rely on that. In fact, he hung so far back, he was nearly invisible to her eyes.

The stronger male was upset by Natasha's preemptive attack. "Kill you, bleed you," he rasped. "Heal them."

Natasha ran forward, tactical knife in hand. That startled him, and she was on him before he could get out of the way. She launched herself forward, tucking into a half somersault. That brought her legs up so that she could clamp his head between her thighs as she swung around. It felled him to the floor, and her knife was buried in his heart in the next instant. A twist of her wrist ensured that the silver really penetrated the heart, and she could see blackening veins shoot up his throat. The silver coming into contact with vampire blood corroded it, rendered it inert, and the decay that the virus arrested began to set in. Really old ones turned to dust, apparently, but newer ones just looked ashy and rotted, black veins in the throat and temples easy markers of silver death. Just to be sure, Natasha yanked out the knife and severed his head from his neck and kicked the head away as she stood up.

The two weaker vampires had blood pooling around them, spilling down their torsos. It wasn't enough to kill them just yet, so Natasha decapitated them and tossed the heads aside. She pulled a face at the clotting vampire blood on her suit, but that couldn't be helped.

"Doesn't SHIELD usually want the heads as proof?" Bucky asked, coming up behind her.

Natasha whirled around, managing to mask her startled expression from him. She hadn't heard him move at all. If he truly wanted to kill her...

"Hey. If you need the heads, I'm sure a shirt or something could hold 'em."

"SHIELD doesn't collect heads as proof. Any collected heads in the past was for research, but I contaminated these with silver. They're no good to study."

"Study," Bucky scoffed.

Natasha snorted. "How else are you going to learn about them?"

"Them. You mean vampires. As in, better ways to kill them."

She looked at him, taking in his flat voice and blank expression. "Well, yes," she replied blandly, refusing to apologize.

At least he didn't mean for her to be ashamed of her profession. "I could tell you what I've learned since I was turned."

"Maybe," she said in a low tone. "And the turning process itself is still fairly mysterious. Not everyone bitten turns."

Bucky nodded. "They call it a virus. I don't know, maybe it is." He extended a hand to her. "Come on. You should start heading topside. Daylight's coming, so you'll be safe enough."

"But the questions you could answer..." she began, frowning.

"You know where I sleep. Sort of." There was his charming smile again, making her think very inappropriate thoughts. "We'll meet again soon, Natasha."

"You seem awfully certain of that."

"I can always find a phone to call you from, if you prefer, but I know your scent. I can find you."

She stilled. "You can track me?"

Bucky moved slowly enough that she could track his movements. "Your scent drives me crazy, Natasha. I'll put in the effort to find you."

An odd thought occurred to her. "Are you _flirting_ with me?"

"Depends. Is it working?" he asked, grinning.

"You're an idiot," she declared loftily. That didn't diminish his grin in the slightest. "But we'll need to keep patrolling the Upper West Side and Morningside Heights now."

"Good. Take care of Steve in the daytime, will ya? He can be so stupid sometimes, and I can't be there anymore."

"I'll see what I can do... I'm not the only one who can do that."

"But you I can talk to."

"Because you want to do your bad flirting?" she asked archly.

"Because you didn't know me before. You don't compare me to what you used to know."

"I've heard stories about you. You were an idiot then, too."

Bucky laughed out loud, delighted. "Maybe. C'mon, let's get you aboveground and safe."

Natasha followed him and easily made her way back to the tower. The others were immensely relieved she was alive, and that the tower physician confirmed she hadn't been bitten or scratched, and the blood on her suit was all vampire.

If anything, the tower residents and ancillary staff were in awe of her and her growing reputation. She tried not to feel guilty for not telling them the truth.

***

Natasha went through a fairly punishing training session with Steve and Clint. The archer was in a fairly protected spot, picking off targets and making snarky comments. Steve had his pistols and his shield, and stood beside Natasha as Tony's robotic models attacked them. At the end of it, Natasha gave Steve a sour look. "I liked killing those weaklings last night better than this."

Steve laughed. "Yeah, but they won't always be weaklings."

That reminded her. "Wait. They were talking about a big bad named Schmidt, and a bigger nest. More than ten vampires, at least."

He blanched, and turned to look over at Clint, who was approaching from his perch. "Jesus. A nest that size..."

"A master? I mean, there's stories of that..." Clint began.

"I'm more concerned about numbers. That many in the Upper West Side..." Steve began.

"We can try to pick them off," Natasha began. "Patrol the area more frequently, maybe."

It had nothing to do with Bucky, she told herself. It was a matter of shutting down a large nest.

"Silver might not be enough," Clint said, looking worried.

Steve nodded. "Tony and Bruce might have ideas."

"If we grab one willing to talk?" Natasha asked.

"Could we even trust it?" Steve replied, shaking his head.

"They might lie just to screw up our efforts," Clint added.

She'd thought of that, of course, but didn't think Bucky would lie. He had been a hunter for years before he was turned, after all, and killed plenty of vampires. If she could trust his word, that was. She hadn't actually seen him do it.

"There's too much we don't know," she sighed.

"Definitely true. If we know more, we could do a better job putting them all down," Steve replied. "As it is, against such a large nest, we'll need to recruit. I'm not going to lose anyone if I can help it," he said, jaw set and voice stern.

"See if Sam can come up sooner," Clint suggested.

"We'll need other seasoned people that know the city. We can't afford weeks to acclimate like we did with me," Natasha suggested in grave tones.

"Makes sense. Maybe Jan would be willing to come back in," Steve murmured. "And the twins. Tony will fight, maybe Rhodey."

"Tony made armor for Pepper, if she wants to," Clint reported.

"Rhodey's girlfriend Carol might help out," Steve added with a nod. "So that might be a good start in attacking uptown."

"All right," Natasha said, nodding. "While you contact them, I can patrol at night, make sure it's what those three said it was. Can't trust dying monsters, after all."

"Still, any edge is a good one," Steve said. "Recon only. But if one gets too close, dust it." He turned to Clint. "You, too."

"Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure."

Natasha nodded crisply at them both. "Yeah. It'll be fun."

Steve shot her a dubious look, but nodded. They needed intel, and this risk was the best way to get it.

***

It was easy enough to get Clint to separate to explore more territory. "I trust you," he said, making her feel vaguely guilty. "I don't have to worry about you taking care of yourself."

"Does that mean _I_ should worry about _you?"_ she snarked.

Clint laughed. "Maybe. I'll take on rooftops and look that way. You'd be surprised what you can see while you're up there."

"I'll stick with ground level," Natasha told him.

"See? Perfect matchup. We make a great team."

"Yes, we do," Natasha agreed. Oh, that was definitely guilt now. "Check in every fifteen," she said, patting the pocket she kept her phone in. They had them on vibrate, and agreed to use texts unless something really odd was happening.

They took separate avenues and walked up and down the streets, looking for signs of vampires. It was at 96th and West End Avenue that Bucky caught up with her, pressing her into the wall of an apartment building. He breathed in deeply, lips curling into a smile, eyes wide and luminous in the dark. "You smell delicious."

"That is not as hot as you hope it is," Natasha replied.

He signed dramatically. "You're breaking my heart."

"Better that than driving a stake through it."

"You are so cold, Natasha."

"As cold as a Russian winter."

"Yet still I soldier on to win your affections."

"Because you're an idiot."

"Because I'm smitten," Bucky returned, grinning like a loon.

Okay, the banter was fun. She hadn't had good by-play like this since Nicholai, his smooth nineteen year old self seeming so suave to her innocent sixteen year old self. Alexei had been so stoic, and had used his strength and stamina to woo her, not his wit.

"Anything useful for me, Barnes?" she asked, almost sorry to cut out the flirting. But she was on a mission here, and she had to stay on point.

He sighed dramatically, then yanked her wrists over her head, leaning in. "Our senses are easily overwhelmed. Sweat, perfume, smoke, whatever. Cover your scent, they can't track you."

"They'll track the scent used to cover me up," she said, annoyed. She refused to feel alarmed that he had her pinned in place and at his mercy.

"Work in a team, cover all of you, scatter. They won't know who to follow," he replied easily.

"What else?" she asked, not wanting to admit it was a useful piece of advice.

"Overwhelm the senses," he repeated. "Even bright lights in the eyes can give you a few seconds' head start."

"Not exactly helpful, Barnes."

"You know silver is poison," he said, grin sliding off his face. He was all business now. "There are other ways to kill. Beheading, fire, stakes... Those would kill humans, too. UV burns, I don't know why."

"I asked about that. Bruce said it interrupts the viral replication," Natasha replied. "So if your body can't heal the damage, you die."

"Good to know," he said quietly. "Bleeding out will work, too. Starving only works if they've been without food for at least two weeks, like the three from last night."

"Who'd you kill, then?"

A flash of pain crossed his features. "Not... human. The more we use our powers, the more we need the blood to repair the damage it does. But drinking from vampires? Well..."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah. Not sure why, but it makes me feel stronger, less hungry for blood. Kinda like protein bars instead of candy."

"So you tank up on vampires?"

Bucky nodded. "It's something they punish with death."

"They have rules?"

"Sure. Don't go making new vampires without permission, don't drink from dead bodies, don't kill vampires, that kind of thing. I think the dead body rule is because it's gross."

Natasha wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like it."

"Well, blood clots rot pretty quickly," he said. He shrugged and let go of her wrists. "But it's possible to drink from willing humans without killing them."

"Jesus. Where would you even find..." Her voice trailed off at his expression. "What?"

"Footsteps two blocks down. Best if I go for now."

"Text me next time."

He paused, considering that. "Let me get a phone."

"If I get you a burner?"

Bucky grinned at her. "You feel the connection, then."

"I feel annoyance at not being able to do my job."

"You do your job," he disagreed. "Very well. You impress me."

"Those yesterday didn't put up much of a fight."

"I know. But the ones last week did."

Natasha froze. "Have you been _stalking_ me?!"

"I call it reconnaissance. I wanted to know the kind of woman I was dealing with."

"And?" she prompted.

"You're a good friend to Steve." He shot her a wistful smile, then inclined his head. "A good ally, if you let anyone see it."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he disappeared from view, melting into the shadows of the alley. Not long after, Clint came down the alley, concern etched onto his features. "You didn't check in," he told her accusingly. "The last check in, when you texted you were heading this way..." He finally noticed her odd expression. "What?"

"We may have an ally," she said quietly.

"What wannabe superhero are we talking about?" Clint scoffed, laughing.

"No, not human."

The laughter dried up "Natasha..."

"He's killing them, just like we are. Hunting the stragglers, thinning the main nest."

"It's a trick," Clint warned.

"I don't think so. He's pretty upset about being a vampire."

"It was a scam to let you let him go," Clint said.

"No, I think it's for real. I haven't seen anything else out tonight, have you?"

"You're changing the subject," he accused.

"No, I think we have things to discuss as a group."

"I don't like this."

"Trust me, neither do I. But this might be useful in the long run, and I have to think of that."

Sighing, Clint nodded. They took a circuitous route to the tower, but Natasha knew Bucky wouldn't be very far behind if he wanted to follow her.

She wasn't sure what to think about that.

***

As expected, nobody liked the idea of getting information from a vampire about hunting other vampires. Even Bruce was hesitant, though he admitted it was a golden opportunity if it was real. "Fresh tissue samples or blood to work with? That would be fantastic."

"To make a vampire cure?" Natasha asked.

Bruce paused. "It's a virus, like a prion, almost, in that it replicates itself and completely overwrites the host DNA in its entirety. To overwrite that..."

"If it could spread as fast as the vampire virus did..." Tony mused. Pepper sighed and handed him a tablet to sign a contract. "I wouldn't mind being out of a job."

"I think we'd all love that," Steve commented. He fixed Natasha with a firm expression, disapproval clearly evident. "But it all comes down to whether or not we can trust one monster to help us get rid of the other ones."

"On that point, I think he was being honest with me."

"Did you even get a name?" Clint asked.

"No," Natasha said, hoping they bought it. "I was busy making sure it wasn't a scam to eat me."

They accepted it, nodding at intervals. "All right, then," Steve said after a moment. "We'll need to track him. Figure out a way to contact him."

"Give him a code name like the rest of us?" Tony snarked.

"Why not?" Natasha said. "Give him a separate name, and share what he tells us with Jane, Fury and the rest of SHIELD." The entire room was silent, watching her. "He confirmed the large nest on the Upper West Side. It's why he came to me, so I could get a team to wipe them out. I don't think he wants to take over the area."

"Jesus," Clint sighed. "I never thought of that."

"So what do we call him?" Tony asked.

"That's the least of our concerns," Steve sighed.

Natasha thought a moment. "The Winter Soldier." All eyes swiveled toward her. "He moved like he's military, and he had a winter coat on."

"It's as good a name as any," Steve said after a moment.

"Sounds dramatic," Tony remarked idly, leaning over to pour himself more scotch. He paused and retreated at Pepper's stern expression and sharp shake of her head.

"I suppose vampires are something like drama queens," Clint remarked, shrugging.

"Why else would one help us?" Natasha asked. "No one would believe one like this exists, you know. So he's a ghost. He doesn't have a legal identity anymore, and can't stay with the humans. He's killing vampires, so he can't stay with them. He doesn't have anywhere else to belong, has no other purpose."

The words obviously moved Steve, who nodded at her. "We have other lines, so we can set one up for him. But I don't want him able to track the rest of us online or by the phones. There should be one contact person for him."

Again, all eyes turned to Natasha, and she sighed. "I guess I'm it."

"New kid on the team," Clint teased.

"He already picked you," Tony pointed out.

"But be careful," Steve cautioned.

Bruce put his hand up. "Program me in, too. I want information. Kills, physiology, tissue and blood samples if I can get it. I can design something better to kill them, maybe. Silver's getting too expensive." He looked to Natasha. "But maybe she's on to something. Maybe I can find a way to reverse this. If I understand how the original virus really works, then maybe I can undo it. We don't have to kill them, we just have to reinfect them."

Natasha looked around the room. "Then I guess we're really doing this."

Everyone looked solemn at the prospect, but it couldn't be helped. Sometimes concessions had to be made in order to win the war.

It was just as well that no one there asked Natasha to like this plan, because she really didn't. Something at some point was bound to go wrong. She just hoped it wouldn't all blow up in her face and kill her.

***  
***


	3. Making Contact

It wasn't difficult to give Bucky the phone to make contact easier. Over the next few weeks, he even answered all of Bruce's texted questions in enough detail to make him happy. He even went into excruciatingly personal details, such as the fact that he was still capable of sexual arousal and possibly even intercourse, though he had no opportunity for such a thing. Bruce didn't ask if he was willing to masturbate For Science, thankfully. Natasha found that line of questioning to be embarrassing and crude, and saw no point to it. When Bruce realized how uncomfortable Natasha was in seeing the text transcripts, he explained that it was to rule out the possibility that the vampire virus was actually sexually transmitted. Many blood borne viruses were, after all.

That made Natasha feel marginally better. She wasn't exactly sure why she cared; she wasn't and couldn't ever be interested in Bucky that way. He was a vampire and she was a hunter, for God's sake. While the flirting was kind of fun, there was nothing that could come of it.

Now if only she could convince Bucky of that.

He went with her on her rounds, which she found highly annoying. "Because I'm a woman?" she snarled, tactical knife in hand.

Shaking his head, Bucky shot her a sidelong glance. "Because how else can I talk to you? I can't talk to Steve like this, I don't want Clint to be suspicious, the new girl doesn't do it for me, and I'm not interested in getting to know the others."

Natasha wasn't pleased that he was so dismissive of Sharon Carter, newly added to the team. Janet Van Dyne hadn't been quite ready to return, but was considering it. James Rhodes was permanently on loan, as was his girlfriend Carol Danvers. The couple hadn't been out on patrol yet, as they were still settling into the tower and figuring out clearance levels for everyone they interacted with. Natasha took that to mean the US Air Force was experimenting on something.

"Why do you latch onto me so hard?" she asked, irritated.

"If I said it was your red hair?"

"I'll dye it black."

"The name Natasha?"

"Madame Natasha to you."

Bucky laughed, still charmed. "You amaze me, Natasha."

"With all you've seen? Your standards must be low."

"On the contrary," he disagreed. "They're pretty damn high. You're amazing, and you make me feel human again."

She stilled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's... The urges. To be a vampire. It's like voice in the back of my head, constantly wanting me to kill, to be a feeding machine. And you... quiet them. They're gone, essentially. If don't feel so out of control around you."

"You said I smell delicious."

"Well, you do."

"How is that quieting the voices in your head?"

"Don't know. I don't question that kind of thing. It's not pheromones, because even the thought of you can keep me pretty calm and focused." His eyes twinkled. "I can't wait to see how I react when we kiss. Or more."

Natasha shook her head and sidestepped him. "That can't happen, Bucky. You know that."

"Oh? And why is that? I won't infect you. I won't give you the virus, no matter what we do."

"You're so certain of that?"

"You are so determined that this won't work. Romeo and Juliet—"

"Died. It was a crush that destroyed them and their families."

Bucky fell silent for a moment. "Or are you just afraid to feel anything? Afraid to lose something important or potentially important, so you just refuse to feel it in the first place?"

Waiting until he was done, she leveled a cold expression at him. "Are you done?"

"No. I won't give up on you, even if you already have."

"I'm a hunter."

"I'm aware of that."

"Even if I don't kill you, someone will."

"I've survived this long without you, Natasha," Bucky chided her gently. "I can deal with the voices alone if I have to, but why would I want to? I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. But I'm making the most of a terrible situation I'm in. I'm not so afraid of losing something wonderful that I won't try for it in the first place."

Natasha sighed, refusing to feel any tenderness. That would leave her vulnerable, open to attack, and she couldn't allow that. "Loss is devastating."

"I know," Bucky said softly.

"How could you?" she snapped.

"Because I lost everything from my old life when this happened to me. Because this now is all I'll ever have. If I have to, I'll bear all the hurt. I'll hold it for you if you can't."

"It's not a contest to see who hurts more," Natasha snapped.

"Isn't it?" he challenged. "Everything approaching serious emotional connection has you running and accusing me of terrible things. You still wear your grief, same as me, but the others don't know you well enough to see it, do they? So you hide behind our grief and your pain, and tell yourself you can't have anything good ever again."

Natasha gasped when Bucky spun her around, pinning her against a wall and then devoured her mouth in a kiss. His frustration and desire were there, his need for her and the tie between them. And as much as Natasha had told herself not to respond to him, she found herself doing it anyway. It wasn't because of memories of Nicholai or Alexei, it wasn't because of childish dreams or lustful moments reading erotica with vampires in it. It wasn't because she thought she could somehow change him. It was feeling what he did, a connection that she hadn't wanted to recognize and kept telling herself shouldn't happen.

"You can have a good thing, Natasha," Bucky murmured. "If it's not me, it's not me. But don't close yourself off to the possibility."

"You think it's you."

"Of course." He grinned at her, then picked her up in his arms, bringing her up to his height. "But if you honestly want me to stop, tell me."

She had her arms around his shoulders for balance, and now moved one so that she could trace the angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the edge of a fang. His eyes seemed to have a preternatural glow to them, but he was still and didn't try to attack her. How many baby vamps went on rampages simply because they could, because they thought they should?

Natasha's lips parted as she cut her finger on the tip of Bucky's fang, and she watched his eyes darken. It was lust for blood and for her, but still he didn't lunge for her. Bucky had been an exceedingly honorable man in life, and it seemed that death hadn't changed that about him.

"You can suck on my finger," Natasha whispered, her voice no more than a rasp.

His tongue curled around the pad of her finger, a light and gentle touch. The soft caress of his tongue sent a shiver through her, and his licks were soft on her skin. How would it feel against her throat? A breast? Her stomach? Lower?

Bucky's lips curled into a smile before he drew her finger further into his mouth. Natasha could feel the warmth of a blush in her cheeks and desire pooling in her belly, low and warm, a rising ache she hadn't felt in a long time. He could smell her arousal, the smug bastard, but her heart raced and she couldn't help the sense of excitement and longing rising in her chest.

"Maybe," she rasped softly, "I need to test things out. See if your theory is as full of shit as you are or not."

He laughed and kissed her, soft and slow, tongue in her mouth. There was a soft tingle at her cut finger, so she pulled back to look at it.

There was no cut.

"I'm healed."

"Yeah. Vampire saliva has some healing properties for that kind of thing, I guess." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I never had opportunity to test it, but I've heard that."

"Have you told Bruce?"

"Um... Didn't think of it before."

"You should."

"He'll want to collect samples, I'm sure."

"Not that you've submitted any yet," Natasha pointed out. At his lofted eyebrow, she smiled wryly. "Bruce may have asked me to get him samples."

"I'll give you whatever you ask for."

"For what price? A kiss? More?"

"Just because you ask," he replied softly, letting her back to her feet. "Because you and your friends want my help."

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss that left them both breathless with need. "Thank you. On Bruce's behalf."

"I'm very open to such expressions of thanks," he replied, grinning impishly at her.

Natasha kissed him again. "Then let's get started."

***

Bruce looked at Natasha in confusion. "You got blood, saliva and tissue samples for me. Without any silver contamination."

"Our contact supplied them. If he can, he'll get some from other vampires so you can look for commonalities and differences."

He blinked. "That's thoughtful. And exactly what I'd need. I've been making do with what we could get for so long, I'm not used to getting what I actually need."

Natasha smiled gently at him. "Maybe you should make a wish list of what you want to study. Maybe he can get it for you."

"I wonder why the saliva, though."

"Healing properties," Natasha responded. She found herself rubbing her finger as Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "It can heal damage from vampire fangs. Don't know about anything else, though. And doesn't cause infection."

"Interesting," Bruce breathed, sounding impressed. And it was, really. Could the enzymes be used to help them heal wounds? Were there ways to commercialize it, perhaps? There were so many potential ways to research this.

"So I'll pass along the list," Natasha told him. "The Winter Soldier might not be able to get all of it, but I'm sure he'll keep an eye out. And we can set up a drop box of some kind so you can get it without any risk to your safety."

Bruce gave a soft huff of uncomfortable laughter. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, this entire line of research can potentially compromise my safety."

Natasha blanched. "I never thought of that."

"It's okay. Most don't."

"Don't put yourself at risk, okay? No experimenting on yourself."

He laughed at that. "People do it, sure. And wind up doing horrible things to themselves as a result. No, Natasha, I'll be fine, I promise."

His voice curled around her given name pleasantly, much as it did most of the time he spoke with her. It would be easier on her if there was an attraction there, if she wanted to kiss him or date him. Hell, Barton or Rogers would be easier to deal with than this dangerous attraction to Bucky. But no, she never did things the easy way, so why should her romantic and sex drives have to differ?

She smiled as if she couldn't tell he was interested. If he wasn't going to push or go after her, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. He knew what she did for a living, knew the kind of dangers that it brought. She couldn't afford to wait forever; she already knew she couldn't have it. She would someday die in the field, most likely. If any vampire tried to convert her, she'd walk into the sun rather than kill innocents.

Though Bucky's way of dealing with it wasn't such a bad option.

Natasha made her way out of the labs to talk with others about setting up the drop box for biohazard material Bruce would experiment on. As expected, Clint and Steve looked ill, Tony rubbed his hands with glee, and the rest looked vaguely appalled. "I'd rather just kill them all and be done with it," Carol admitted.

"You'd punch a dinosaur in the face if you could," Rhodey laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "But this Soldier guy, he's trying to help."

"Makes you think twice about calling them all monsters, maybe," Pepper murmured. "How many innocents were turned against their will?"

"And how many begged for it?" Clint countered. "How many saw it as an excuse to be evil, to live forever on the backs of others, to see the rest of humanity as cattle?" He shrugged. "It goes both ways, you know."

"They're not better than anyone else, in other words," Steve said, resignation in his tone. "Just people. The virus brings out whatever was there, amplifying it. A bad person becomes evil, a good one becomes great."

Natasha thought of Bucky, of what she knew of him in stories and then the reality of him as a vampire. "Is there maybe a way to turn them back? The ones that want to? Reverse the virus, make them human again?"

The room fell silent. "That... sounds tricky," Tony said, breaking the stunned silence. "I mean, there's the possibility of vampirism not taking. Or doing horrible mutations, right? What if this new virus is the same? It might kill them, might not reverse the mutations, might make them even worse than before..."

"It's conjecture, anyway," Steve said dismissively.

"Though if Bruce could make one," Carol murmured, "I'm sure some would volunteer to test it, even at the risk of death. There's always risk involved in life. And even in death, now."

"You're talking about vampires having rights, then," Rhodey said. "So would they own property? Vote? Serve in armies? Have state-sanctioned blood bank access?"

"Maybe there would be research into blood substitutes," Tony said with a shrug. "If they're people, like a subset of people, they'd be something like _homo sapiens vampiris,_ and have to have some way to do ordinary human stuff. It would be complicated. Washington would love it."

"Only if the people did," Steve murmured. "But we've all lost so much to this virus, I don't think they'd be so willing to let it go."

"You'd be surprised," Natasha murmured, shaking her head and feeling vaguely guilty about not telling Steve that the Winter Soldier was Bucky. "People want comfort. Illusions. The idea of safety and freedom."

"But freedom isn't free," Steve replied. "The cost of freedom is high. I'm prepared to pay it, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"How many know the true cost?" Carol asked quietly. "The sacrifice involved? If they did..."

"There are always those that would," Rhodey murmured, kissing her temple. "Look at us. The military isn't a cakewalk, hon. We knew that, knew what it meant. What we're talking about is no different, really."

"Wow, this got very philosophical," Pepper observed when the others fell silent.

"It's a tough call," Natasha murmured. "There's no right answer, no wrong answer. We can debate ethics, what's death or life, what rights do vampires get, whatever. But if this is reversible, that's a whole separate argument. I don't know about you guys, but my personal set of ethics are already pretty gray as it is. I mean, I'm working with a vampire! I'm supposed to kill them all."

"You don't want to like him," Pepper mentioned. "I get how that is," she added, eyes flicking toward Tony.

"It would be easier if I didn't," Natasha agreed. No need to clarify _how_ she liked him, right? Right.

"C'mon," Clint replied, getting up. "Let's go find some you're not friends with and kick ass."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Natasha said with a grin, eagerly getting to her feet.

Clint rubbed his hands together. "I have some new arrowheads I want to test out."

"You are such a geek," Natasha told him fondly.

"Says the one that giggles with joy at getting new silver bullets or knives."

"They're practical," she said defensively.

He laughed. "We're the same, is all," he replied. "So let's suit up and take out some monsters."

"How will you know if they're monsters or if some have a conscience?" Rhodey asked.

"If they're trying to eat you, they're the bad kind," Steve said before Clint could.

They laughed, and Natasha felt some of her tension ease. This part would be easy. This part, she could do on autopilot.

It was her emotions that she couldn't seem to trust.

***

Stalking NYC streets at night was exhilarating and exhausting, even on an uneventful night. This was _not_ an uneventful night.

A lone vampire outside of the Museum of Natural History was feeding on a homeless man that had tried hiding in the foliage outside of the West 79th street exit. Clint shot an arrow into the vampire's shoulder, but the silver didn't poison him fast enough. He dropped the homeless man and hissed at them in fury. Natasha shot him in the face, blowing off his lower jaw.

"Bruce could use that," Clint remarked, nocking another arrow.

"You already hit him with the silver arrowhead," Natasha reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, that's going to screw it up."

"Guess we'll just have to finish off this one," Natasha said, continuing to shoot at the vampire in front of them. Lower jaw or not, he kept coming despite the silver arrowhead and half dozen shots to the chest. The sound and scent of the homeless man's blood was going to draw in more of them. "Ready for a crowd? Or do we call in the cavalry?"

"We've got this," Clint replied.

"Then let's dance."

Natasha rushed in, Glock holstered and silvered knives in hand. The vampire was slowed by silver poisoning, but not dead from it just yet. She would guess an older one, then, able to push past the infection brewing in his veins. She kicked him full in the chest when he got in close and not quite close enough for her to safely slash at him. The kick staggered him back, and Clint let another silver arrowhead fly. The vampire screamed, a high pitched sound, full of anger and fear and pain.

Remembering what Bucky had said about overwhelming the sense, Natasha let out a fierce howl of her own. The vampire held his hands over his ears, grimacing. That gave her the opportunity to come in close and slash his throat open. Her blade actually nicked his spine; she could feel the impact in her wrist and arm when silvered steel met bone. Blood spurted and liberally splashed her front.

Clint chuckled when she made a disgusted noise and pulled back, wiping her knife on the outside of her thigh, one of the few clean spots she could see. He retrieved his arrows and inspected them, deeming them fit for reuse. "That was easy."

Natasha was about to agree when she felt a trickle of unease. It took a moment for her to realize what she was picking up on.

It was too quiet. The homeless man had stopped whimpering and sobbing. Even his breathing couldn't be heard any longer.

Flicking her eyes in that direction, Clint's easy smile dropped and his entire stance hardened. He nodded, nocking an arrow in place as he fell into flanking position beside Natasha.

Three vampires had fallen on the poor homeless man, who for all intents and purposes was dead, his eyes just shy of empty.

Clint let loose three arrows in rapid succession, one even catching a vampire in the eye as she moved. She fell back, screeching and clawing at her face. Yanking out the arrow took her eye with it, and the silvered arrowhead partly broke off in the wound. Perfect. That would kill or slow her down, leaving her two girlfriends to be dealt with.

They didn't close in on Natasha. "Sister," one said, fangs extended. "Was this your prey? Was it your allotted hunting day?"

The vampire blood on her coated her scent, Natasha realized suddenly. She could get closer, but only at risk to herself if the ploy didn't work.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Creeping forward warily with her knife hidden partly by her leg, Natasha nodded at them. "Now he's worthless."

"The other there hurt Coralina," the leader said, looking at Clint drawing another arrow from his quiver, ready to shoot again.

"He belongs to me," Natasha said coldly, advancing in a threatening manner. Now she didn't bother to hide her knife.

This alarmed the woman in charge. "Did Schmidt allow that? Or Zola?"

"What do you think?" Natasha snapped as if irritated by the very question.

"But Schmidt is keeping all the numbers tight in the zone. And you haven't been at meetings."

"They're boring," Natasha intoned, baring her teeth.

"You're required to go," the leader insisted. Natasha stalked forward, and she looked uneasy. "What are you doing?"

"Sometimes, it's best not to ask."

The silent vampire sniffed. "I smell another human."

Natasha knew the jig was up when both sniffed again. She threw her knife at the silent vampire's throat, forcing her to choke on her own blood. Natasha spun out of the way as two of Clint's arrows landed in her chest. She screeched, but Natasha ran forward and leapt at her, kicking the other wounded vampire away. Clint let out a volley of four arrows in quick succession, catching that wounded one in the chest. She stumbled, startled, then crashed into the fallen vampire, who already looked ashy and sick.

This left the leader of the trio with Natasha. "I don't think you're one of us," she hissed.

She bared her teeth in a threatening manner. "Because I'm not," she purred.

"You won't survive in Schmidt's territory, fledgling, even with your ghoul there to help you," the vampire snarled at her. "You are alone. You're nothing. We are many."

Natasha rolled her eyes, which let her see the shadows shift beyond them, somewhere toward West 80th. Dammit.

"How many?" Natasha asked, yanking her Glock out. There was a cry of surprise behind her from Clint, but if she looked his way, this vampire would certainly kill her.

"Twenty-seven in our haven, and that's not counting the hunting teams. Face it, fledgling, you can't steal Schmidt's territory from him. We'll kill you first."

"Just how loyal _is_ this Zola anyway?" Natasha asked, eyebrow arched in challenge. "After all, you're a nobody. What do you know?"

This angered the leader as Natasha hoped. She attacked, lunging at Natasha, but her stance was sloppy and Natasha easily sidestepped her. The Glock was loud when she pulled the trigger, catching the vampire in the hip. That would be nasty, with lots of veins and arteries to repair, not that Natasha had any intention of letting her repair herself. She kept firing, shooting the back as she turned, then the back of her head. Then for good measure, she took out her other knife with her left hand and cut through her neck, severing the head.

Now she looked up toward Clint, who was struggling with the first fallen vampire. It had been a mistake to count her as nearly dead. Her comrade seemed to be succumbing to the effects of silver poisoning and blood loss, twitching and vomiting. The first one had pulled Clint to the ground. While he had kicked her in the face and had his own silvered knives to cut at her, she kept grabbing him and trying to scratch him. Natasha raced over with her knife and pulled the woman's head back by the hair. Adrenaline coursing through her, she peeled the vampire off of Clint, then nearly severed the head from the body in a single stroke.

"I always seem to be saving your ass," she laughed in relief, not seeing any other vampires coming in out of the shadows.

Clint's answering laughter was pained. "Yeah. Don't gloat about that too much. This time you were a little slow."

To her dawning horror, Natasha realized that the blood splashed across Clint's abdomen was his own, not vampire blood. She fell to her knees beside him and gingerly pulled away the reinforced Kevlar of his vest. Several deep gouges were there, blood all but pouring out of him.

Adding insult to injury, Natasha burst out into tears at the sight.

Dismayed, Clint clasped Natasha's hand tightly as she pressed down on his wounds. "Hey. I'll be all right. Bruce has tricks, the docs can all do a great stitch job."

But that was at the tower, nearly sixty blocks away.

"Maybe I can help," Bucky said, emerging from the shadows where Natasha had looked earlier.

"You're going to lick them shut?" Natasha asked. Clint seemed perturbed by that, but remained silent, which she was grateful for.

"I'm not sure that would work, actually," Bucky said with a grimace. He knelt on Clint's other side, looking down at them with a serious expression. "I think if I put my blood in the wound, my enhancements will try to repair the damage."

"But then it will get into my bloodstream," Clint said. He winced as Natasha pressed harder to stop the bleeding.

"You might," Bucky agreed. "You lost a lot of blood. But you're not at the edge of death yet, so you might be safe."

"Risk of vampirism vs. definite death if I do nothing," Clint said when Natasha's lips trembled with emotion. Bucky nodded. "When put that way... Do it."

Natasha could see the fear in Clint's expression, and held onto him tightly. "No matter what happens," she began as Bucky pulled open the wounds and bit his wrist to start his blood flowing. "We're going to get through it."

"Of course we are," Clint agreed, grip tight on her hand despite the blood smeared there. "You've got one vampire friend already. I think you're the Winter Soldier, right?" he asked Bucky.

"It's the nickname I seem to have acquired," Bucky replied, not looking at him.

"Think I'm getting better?" Clint rasped, lips tight with pain. Natasha had to resist the urge to gather him up in her arms at the sight.

"I think it's sealing," Bucky said. He seemed pale to Natasha, and she wondered if it was blood loss or trying to resist tearing into Clint's wound and drinking the blood himself.

"That's good. Though if I did grow fangs, you paved the way for human-vampire friendships."

Bucky slid his eyes toward Natasha, a concerned expression on his face. "Yeah. I heard the yells. If I didn't... If anything happened to her..."

"Damn, it hurts like a bitch," Clint growled.

Yanking his wrist away, Bucky let it heal. "I think you'll be all right, then." At Clint's questioning look, he gave a mirthless smile. "If you stop feeling, you're dying. Then the virus really will take hold and turn you."

"Thank you," Natasha whispered.

Brightening, Bucky nodded. "We should get you to a safe place to heal up completely, get checked out, just to be sure."

Natasha looked around them. "Too distracting for you?"

"Kinda, yeah," Bucky admitted.

"I won't stop you. Except with the vampires. The silver poisoning makes them smell rotten."

"Because they are," Bucky replied. He looked down at Clint, biting his lower lip. It really shouldn't have been so distracting to Natasha.

"Look, as awful as it sounds, the guy is goner," Natasha said, wincing. "If you need to... top off, or whatever you want to call it."

"It's—" Bucky began.

"Look, man," Clint said, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. "I already know you're a vampire, okay? Just... do whatever it is you need to do in order to not eat me, okay?"

Bucky took a deep breath, his expression pained. "Okay," he said softly. He left their side to go to the dying homeless man.

Clint and Natasha politely looked away, but by unspoken agreement both watched out of the corner of their eyes. Bucky seemed to say something soothing to the man, then put his mouth to one of the wounds at his neck. He cradled the man's head, making him as comfortable as possible, then drank deeply, until the man seemed to sag and collapse into himself like a fallen rag doll. Bucky took his mouth away after a moment, then took Natasha's silvered knife from one of the bodies nearby to cut off the man's head.

"What was that for?" Clint asked, not quite hiding the accusing note in his voice as Bucky handed the knife back to Natasha.

"I didn't know what blood was in his mouth," Bucky said, no inflection in his tone. "He didn't want to come back."

Clint blinked. "Oh. Oh shit." His hands shook a bit. "I didn't think of that. I'm sorry."

"I know you didn't. This was done to me without my consent. I won't do the same to anyone else." He knelt down again and lifted Clint up in his arms, hefting the weight as if he was a small child. "Get any weapons you want and let's go. Maybe there'll be a fledgling out there stupid enough to drink tainted blood."

"Fledgling?" Natasha asked, looking through the other bodies. No ID on any of them, but two switchblades, her second knife and Clint's arrows were retrieved. She put on Clint's fallen quiver and bow. The gear would be cleaned later, when they were safe. "Their leader called me that. I gather it's some kind of insult."

"Newborn vampire. Doesn't know rules or how to survive on their own yet. They tend to cluster for strength in numbers. I've never seen more than four or five at once, though. They tend to have too much infighting then."

So how much sway would Schmidt have to have in order to command twenty-seven vampires plus hunting parties? And if this group was the norm, each hunting party would have three vampires in it. Three or four could feed off a human, killing him in the process if they gorged, as these women did.

Schmidt's group could decimate New York City if left unchecked.

Bucky led them away from the museum, and Natasha checked in at the tower. She didn't mention Bucky's involvement yet, just that there were complications, they weren't safe yet, and wouldn't be back that evening.

"They don't worry about you two?"

"We're an efficient strike team," Clint replied. "We've never needed an extraction plan."

"Until tonight," Natasha sighed. How had she gotten so close to him so quickly? Clint was like family, and seeing him so grievously wounded had torn at her. But he was alive, gloriously alive, and would stay that way.

"No harm in needing help occasionally. Two of you against four? Impressive odds, really."

"They sucked," Clint said flatly.

"And we're that good," Natasha added with pride.

Bucky chuckled. "In that case, I'm glad we're friends."

"I'm your friend?" Clint asked in surprise.

"Friends of Natasha are friends of mine," Bucky replied, remembering not to shrug and jostle him in the process. He smiled warmly at Clint instead.

"Huh. I guess. Never thought I'd be friends with a vampire, to be honest."

"I understand," Bucky replied with a mirthless smile.

The hideaway was the basement of a brownstone. "I think the rest of this place is empty," Bucky told them. He laid Clint down on a couch gently, then rose. "No food in the place, but I can get some if you need it."

"We have energy bars, but I'm not hungry," Natasha murmured, stowing their gear and some of her armor in a corner of the room. Clint nodded in agreement, so Bucky sat crosslegged on the floor, leaving Natasha with the only chair.

"So now what?" Clint asked, smothering a yawn.

"Now, you sleep. Get your strength up."

"Do you think I'll turn?" Clint asked anxiously.

Bucky shook his head. "You were in a bad way, but not actually ready to die yet."

"Good to know," Clint replied with relief. "Not ready to give up beaches and tans yet."

"Yeah," Bucky replied dryly. "I'll bet you look awful pale."

Natasha let out a burst of startled laughter, smothering it with her hand when Clint shot her an irritated look. "What? It was funny."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Good to see where I stand with you."

"What? You're both cute. He's better looking pale and gothy, though." It was only Bucky's laughingly preening expression that she realized what she said. "Anyway, we're safe here for the night, right?"

Bucky nodded. "It's light proof, too. I've been here a few times when I couldn't get back underground before sunrise."

"Is there a shower? We need to clean off."

Clint got first dibs as Natasha washed off their weapons. He brusquely waved off Bucky's help once he saw that the surface of his wounds had sealed. "It itches like a bitch under my skin," he whined, "so I know it's still healing."

"And you still smell human," Bucky offered helpfully.

"Helpful to know. Creepy party trick, but helpful," Clint said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder on the way to the bathroom.

Bucky laughed and sat down across from Natasha at the table she had commandeered. "Hey."

"Hey."

"He's a good guy. I can see why you like him."

Natasha nodded and remained focused on cleaning her knife as Bucky slid closer. He dropped his chin to her shoulder, lips near her skin. Dammit, why had she removed the neck guard to get comfortable in here?

His tongue darted forward to touch her skin, right near the pulse point there. A hand came down to rest on her thigh, his other arm resting the back of her chair. The fingers at her thigh began to move, stroking her softly.

"What are you doing?"

"Has it been that long for you?"

Yes. Not that he needed to know that.

Bucky leaned in a little closer and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw. "It was a long time for me. Years even before I was turned. Too focused on the job."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she commented, cleaning off the last bit of blood from her knife. She looked at its edge critically, but she didn't need a whetstone just yet. Maybe one more fight, and then she would have to.

"No, but I might've lost sight of why I did it," Bucky murmured. He brushed his lips along her jaw, making her shiver. She refused to acknowledge the desire to turn and kiss him soundly. "We save lives, Natasha. That doesn't mean we have to give up our own."

"That's the price I'm willing to pay."

"But if you didn't?"

"I tried that already," she murmured, thinking of Nicholai, of Alexei, of the unborn daughter that she'd lost.

"Were they fighters?"

"Yes. Didn't help."

"I'm already dead. You can't lose what's already lost."

"You can die again."

Bucky buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Yes. But I'm not so afraid of losing happiness that I won't even try for it. I'm willing to try."

Natasha put down her knife and closed her eyes, feeling his lips against her skin, fingers stroking her through her clothes. If she let go of her control, if she gave in to this attraction, she would have to hide it. After all, the others could barely tolerate a friendship. How could they understand a love affair?

Love. A word she didn't want to say, an emotion she didn't want to feel. Love brought vulnerability, pain, loss.

She made a discontented noise when he pulled away. "Bucky..."

"No. Don't," he warned. "Don't use a name. They can't know, can't tell Steve. Clint's finishing up, and I don't think you would want them to know about us."

"They wouldn't understand," she murmured.

"Do you?" Bucky asked, sounding almost sad.

She licked her lips and looked at him. Her eyes slid away from him for a moment. "I'm not sure."

"You're a liar, Natasha," Bucky replied, definitely hurt now.

Sheathing a knife, Natasha raised her eyes. "I only act like I know everything."

"What do you want?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. Part of the draw of this is that rules are easy. Save the humans, kill the vampires. There's no room for anything else. I don't have to feel or think."

"Do I at least make you feel something?"

"You know that I do."

"And you don't want to."

"Wanting leads to pain."

"Maybe this won't have to. Or if it does, I'll feel it for both of us."

Clint opened the bathroom door down the hall, so she fell silent and worked on the silver arrowheads. "I don't know," she said softly, knowing Bucky would hear her.

"Don't wait to die before your life can begin," he replied, standing. He turned to Clint as he walked back into the main sitting area. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks. I had to put some of my stuff back on," Clint said, shrugging. He hadn't bothered with the shirt, vest or any protective gear. "Any place to bed down for a while?"

"Yeah, this is an apartment," Bucky said, getting to his feet. "There might be some bathrobes if we take a look."

"I'd walk around in a towel if you don't care," Clint said with a smile. "But I wouldn't want to offend Tash's sensibilities or make you all jealous."

"Or maybe _you'd_ be jealous," Bucky laughed.

Clint wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. Yours is dead."

"Still active."

"Is it really? Gross."

The laughed and Natasha rolled his eyes. "Boys."

"Some things never change," Bucky replied with a grin. "I was always this good."

"This much a dork, you mean?" she taunted.

"Says the giant dork," Clint teased.

Natasha rolled her eyes and headed toward the bathroom to wash off the dried blood. "And just for that," she called out, one arm raised to point behind her, "you can finish cleaning the arrows I rescued for you."

Clint had a few colorful curses in response, which had the others laughing. Natasha first stood under the shower in her cat suit, the easiest way to wash off all of the vampire blood that had dried into the Kevlar weave. Once the water swirled clear, she turned it off and peeled out of the suit and under things beneath it. She looked at her reflection in the foggy mirror, the way everything was blurred and soft, yet still vaguely looking like herself. Was that all her life was meant to be, then? Killing dead things, washing away every trace of it, then going back out again to do more of the same? She already had nightmares enough for ten lifetimes. When did it ever get to end?

Blowing out a breath to silence those maudlin thoughts, she went back into the shower, snapping the curtain shut. She still had to wash the blood out of her hair and off of her face.

She knew who it was that opened the door just as she turned the water back on. "You're pretty sure of yourself."

"More like hopeful," Bucky replied. "Clint went to bed, if that helps."

"It does."

Pause. She could imagine him biting his lip, and found herself biting her own in response, desire starting to curl low in her belly. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. He had to hear its staccato rhythm.

"So...?"

"You need washing, too, don't you? Come in."

He came in fully clothed as she had been at first, eyeing her hungrily. His mouth sought hers, hands roaming over her body as she started to undo his clothes. "I wasn't that messy," he murmured against her mouth, hands sliding down to caress her ass. "But I can be."

Natasha dropped the sodden clothes to the bottom of the tub. "This is your place, isn't it? It's not a random place you found."

"I've got this as a safe house, the spot underground where I took you, and one other place." He groaned when she yanked off his jeans and tighty whities. "I'll have to take you there sometime."

"Just shut up and kiss me," she growled, pulling his head down.

"Yes, ma'am," he teased before kissing her.

Bucky brought both hands beneath her, lifting her up to make it easier for him to kiss her. One hand slid around to her front, letting him finger her folds and entrance. She gasped into his mouth when he hit her clit, and the man was clever enough to stay there, rubbing at her until she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her kisses were frantic and her thighs quivered around his waist. When she couldn't even maintain the kisses, she tucked her head against his neck and shuddered, her whole body shaking. "Oh, God," she moaned against his skin, mouth open.

"I've got you," he returned, fingers not stopping. "C'mon, Natasha."

Her fingers tightened further, and maybe her nails were breaking skin. "Harder. Just a bit, just—" She stopped, breaking off and biting his shoulder to muffle her cries as she came.

"You like it rough?" he asked, sounding aroused. His fingers kept at the same rhythm and pressure, hoping to coax another orgasm out of her. At her nodding against his shoulder, he grinned. "I do, too. Do your worst, Natasha."

She gasped when he pressed her against the tiled wall, his erect cock pressed against her but just outside her body. Bucky kept using his fingers on her, getting her slippery and aching with the need to have him inside her. She raked her nails down his back and bit his shoulder as she moaned. It felt _so good,_ especially after such a long time without, and Natasha bit down hard enough to draw blood.

To her surprise, there was no coppery tang in her mouth. The blood was more like dry wine, and she curled her tongue around the taste of him. Was this how vampires felt when they fed?

The bite made him groan in pleasure. "Do I get to mark you in return?" he groaned, sliding his fingers inside of her.

"Only if you erase it after."

Bucky shifted her so that she could help guide his cock into her. She sank down onto his length with a sigh of pleasure and relaxed onto it. "It's been too long."

"Definitely," he replied, voice strangled. "Remember what I said about sensory overload?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit, this alone is amazing," Bucky breathed.

"Try moving."

When he did, they both hissed at the sensation. It didn't take long for him to pick up speed, to kiss her as if his life depended on it, to use long and deep strokes to make Natasha whine with need. She tilted her head back, gasping at the bursts of pleasure shooting through her. She could feel Bucky's body tense, then rhythm grow faster and harder as he came close himself. He muffled his groans in her skin, mouth open against her throat. Then as the shudders began, his teeth cut her skin and his tongue lapped at her blood. He groaned, throaty and deep, then pressed his mouth over the wound to drink deeply. The cuts had been so swift, she barely felt anything. Now she could feel the suction as he drank, but otherwise there was no dizzying euphoria. When his tongue dragged wetly over her neck, she knew he was sealing the wound.

Bucky sagged heavily against her, pressing her uncomfortably into the wall. "God. I can't..."

She gently carded her fingers through his hair. "That good?"

He gave her a goofy grin. "Better."

"You sure know how to stroke a girl's ego."

"Among other things."

Natasha laughed and let her legs fall from his waist. "Look at you. Such a charmer," she teased.

He rinsed off first and told her to leave the sodden mess in the tub when she was done. She admired the muscled planes of his body; he had been in fantastic shape prior to his death. Once he was out of the room, she cleaned herself in earnest, especially since his come was streaked with blood on her thighs. Messy, but all good sex tended to be.

She couldn't help but smile goofily herself. It had been a good night after all.

***  
***


	4. Emotional Connections

Clint was subjected to a battery of tests Bruce ran, which all concluded he had healed without a single scar and no vampire traits remaining in his system. He joked about super speed and healing factors, but Bruce didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. The humor trailed off outside the lab. He found Natasha in the kitchen, getting a sandwich together. No one else was in the room, so he sat down across from her. "You know you're my best friend, right?"

Her expression softened. "And you're mine."

"Was last night the first time you two hooked up?"

Natasha froze, an expression of panic nearly coming through. She choked, not sure what she could say or how she could explain it.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said wryly. "If it wasn't, you'd have a smooth excuse and a bunch of lies for me."

"Oh, God, Clint, I—"

Holding up a hand and shaking his head, Clint said "Don't say anything, Natasha."

Were those tears starting to form? She blinked furiously, refusing to start crying again for the second time in as many days. "Please, Clint—"

"No, seriously, Natasha, _shut up._ You don't know who else might be listening here." She blanched and choked again, looking at him desperately. Clint reached over and took her hand. "If he didn't save my life, if I never met him, never talked with him... I'd probably be grossed out right now. The others won't understand, but I think I do."

"Clint," Natasha began in a pained voice.

"So, of course, there will be necrophilia jokes."

"You are such an ass!" she cried, yanking her hand away.

He grinned. "Yeah. You love me anyway."

"Yeah," she said, her expression softening a fraction. "I didn't mean for this to happen. It just..." Her voice trailed off and she shot him a plaintive look. "I didn't want to care, but then... I did."

"But he's not a monster. No more than we are, anyway."

She nodded and shoved her plate at him. "So now what?"

"Be careful. We're family, and want you to be happy, but I don't think they'd get it without meeting him."

Natasha bit her lip. "You're okay with this?"

Clint paused enough for her to get nervous. "I've had time to think this over. And what I saw of him? None of that was a front. He was a stand up guy before this shit went down. If you'd met him before, he would've been a great addition to the team. As it is, now he's just unofficial." Patting her shoulder, he gave her a smile. "Just be careful. You're playing with fire."

"I know," she whispered. "But..."

"You like him. You really like him."

"He makes me feel alive. Like I wasn't before," Natasha admitted.

"Oh, you've got it _bad,"_ Clint sighed. "I remember that feeling," he said, shaking his head. "It was fun while it lasted."

"What happened?" she asked, curious.

"Bobbi and I... It worked out great at first. But then she felt I was holding her back. I resented her going off and doing her own thing, even though I told her to go. It felt like, if she loved me, she'd stay with me. But she was always haring off for the next big fight. Wanderlust, you know. Maintaining a place wasn't her style. Moving from Brooklyn to here was more than enough for me. I didn't want the danger of interstate travel, and she lived for the thrill of the chase. Once the heat burned off, we didn't have enough in common."

"I'm sorry," Natasha murmured.

"Don't be. Nobody's fault. It is what it is. She hooked up with some hunter that operates the same way. We're friendly, call and e-mail every once in a while to keep up."

"Oh, wait, _that_ Bobbi."

"Yeah, that one," Clint said, looking at her earnestly. "You've gone one life, Natasha. Don't live it second guessing yourself or regretting all the things that could've been. He's not the other guys you've been with, and not just 'cause of the whole..." Clint gestured with his fingers, curling them into hooks to mimic fangs.

Natasha swatted his shoulder. "Jerk."

"True, though."

She thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, it is."

"I'm glad you trust me with this," Clint muttered. "It's huge."

"I don't need to lie to you, then. And it's good to get feedback, I guess. I've been alone so long, I thought it was better that way."

"Stupid," Clint snorted. "We need backup. If not me, take Steve or Sam with you. I don't want you feeling like you have to be out there all alone. You've got nothing to prove, you know. You're of the toughest, most capable people I know."

"One of?"

"I'm the best, of course."

Natasha laughed and smacked his arm before taking sandwich back to eat.

***

Natasha laid spread-eagled on Bucky's bed, muffling her cries of pleasure as he licked into her enthusiastically. He had knelt at the foot of the bed, her legs over his shoulders for a good half hour or so. As soon as he heard that her prior lovers hadn't ever gone down on her, he sought to rectify the situation and introduce her to the position. Natasha had to say, she was now rather fond of it.

When he finally came up, a satisfied smirk on his face, Natasha let her legs fall to the sides of him. Bucky was gloriously naked, cock erect and ready to enter her. She hooked one leg around him and pulled as she crooked a finger invitingly. His smirk widened into a full goofy grin, and he eagerly guided himself into her. It was wonderful how thick and full she felt, the friction as he slid in and out of her, a rapid pace and as hard as she needed. He growled as she ran her hands down his abdomen, nails scratching.

He collapsed on top of her after coming soon after. "So much for staying power," she teased.

"Why do you think I went down on you first?" he snarked back.

Since the first time they'd had sex – she refused to call it making love, even if that was closer to what was happening – they'd hunted the Upper West Side another dozen or so times together. The sex followed, close to sunrise, and Clint covered for her. "Not that I _want_ to know when you bang him," he'd said, "but you need someone nearby aware of what's going on, in case your boy's got a target on his back, too."

It could be their teammates or other vampires, and made sense. They both appreciated the gesture, and Bucky tended to find expensive bottles of liquor or caches of silver to give him as a thank you. "I know which places feel dead," he explained the first time he handed Clint a bag of goods. "I go in and help myself. If the current residents object, I make sure they don't."

"By killing them?" Clint had asked archly.

"By confirming their dead state," Bucky corrected cheerfully.

On this particular occasion, they didn't have Clint backing them up, so she and Bucky went to one of his aboveground safe houses, and it was just after sunrise now. After withdrawing, Bucky settled back between her thighs to lick into her again, curling a finger deeply inside of her. Natasha moaned and writhed beneath his mouth, pulling at his sheets. Most things in the room had been crashed into in their haste to get to the bed while kissing and disrobing. Building up to another orgasm, Natasha couldn't care less.

Bucky kept going until she reached down and pulled at his hair as she came. He got up and tugged at her, not using words for what he wanted. But she was repositioned in the center of the bed when he straddled her head and leaned down to put his mouth back between her legs. _Oh, of course,_ she wanted to say. But instead, she grasped his cock and guided it toward her lips as he settled to lick her clit again. He felt utterly delicious doing that as she tasted him, then took him into her mouth as far as she could.

This was something else more adventurous than Nicholai or Alexei had been interested in trying. Nicholai, bless him, had been little more than a child, and Alexei was old fashioned regarding her work. Bucky didn't feel threatened by her fighting prowess. If anything, he seemed to be proud of her, and trained with her in his private gym in the larger hideaway. "You have to hit harder," he'd warned her. "Don't worry if you're overdoing it. Vampires are dead. Our bodies don't get damaged as easily. And if there's damage, the virus tries to repair it. You have to overwhelm the body with so much damage the virus can't compensate for it."

Keeping that in mind, Natasha sucked harder on his cock than she would have done for Nicholai or Alexei. She could feel his groan of pleasure against the core of her, sending a shiver down her spine. Oh yes, good call on that decision. Rolling her tongue around in circles also made him growl, and Bucky thrust his tongue as deeply inside of her as he could. Was this a game of one upmanship now? She could get behind a game like that.

But too soon, he shifted and pulled his mouth away from her. She made a mewl of protest and propped herself up on her elbows when he got up entirely. "What gives?" she asked, breaking the silence and frowning at him.

"I wanna be inside you."

"Oh!" She grinned at him eagerly. "I like that idea."

"From behind?" he asked.

Natasha got up to her hands and knees, then wiggled her butt. "What are you waiting for?"

Bucky laughed as he entered her, then they both groaned in pleasure. "I love you, Natasha Romanoff," he groaned.

Squeezing her inner muscles, she laughed breathlessly. Did he really expect her to say it back to him _now?_

Apparently not, because he kept up the same rapid pace, his hands at her hips, grunting with each thrust. She moaned, breath catching as his cock slammed home. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the feel of him for a while before snaking a hand down to rub her clit. That made her curse and clench down hard. Bucky had no chance to last with that, and they soon collapsed in a tangled mess on his bed.

Bucky kissed her cheek, then moved to her spine as she sprawled on her stomach, unmindful of the mess they made. "Does it bother you that I love you?" he asked, lips along knobbly bones of her cervical spine.

"No," she replied, not even moving. "Should it?"

"I hoped it wouldn't," he murmured. "Even if you can't feel the same way, I hope you feel _something._ I assume so, since you're here and risking discovery..."

Natasha turned over onto her back and cupped is face in her hands. "Do you need words? Is that it?" she asked gently.

There was a vulnerable cast to his features. "I suppose I want to be sure that you want to be here with me."

"I wouldn't risk infection or exposure of your secrets otherwise."

"But you need to protect your heart," he said softly, pressing his loose hand to the valley between her breasts.

"You assume I have one. You have to be heartless to be in this business."

"No," Bucky disagreed. "You need to have too much of it."

Natasha shook her head. "To take lives—"

"Dead lives, to protect the living ones. Killing the monsters to keep the innocents alive a little longer. It's love of humanity as a whole, not necessarily all individuals." He let his fingertips skate across her skin. "Some part of you must think of me as a monster."

"No," she said, dropping one hand down to cover his. "I don't." At his incredulous expression, she repeated herself. "I _don't."_

"How can you not?"

"Because you fight to keep your humanity. You love me, even when I can't love myself."

Bucky looked at her in concern. "Because of this?" he asked, gesturing between them, leaning back to sit on his haunches.

Oh, hell. She wasn't prepared for this conversation. And especially not when post-coital, when she should feel relaxed and sleepy.

Natasha sat up and shook her head. "Because I lost the ones I loved. Anyone I care about is cursed to die."

"You've said that. And I'm already dead. It doesn't stick, obviously. So it's not a curse."

"Don't even joke."

"You're a superstitious Russian," Bucky sighed.

"And you're a godless American," Natasha replied. "These things happen."

"For a reason. I have to believe there's a reason for all things. I was meant to be here, so I could meet you. So I could love you, help save your friend, help with research..."

Feeling like a selfish bitch, Natasha turned her face away from him.

"Even if you can't say it," Bucky said, turning her face back toward him, "I think you still feel it."

Natasha bit her lip. "I can't, you idiot."

He grinned as if was an endearment. "You can, and you do. And it scares the fuck out of you, doesn't it? If it's just working together, just sex, you can compartmentalize it. You can keep it all in neat little boxes, and you don't have to think about it or feel it, don't have to do much more than coast from one mission to the next. You've been here a year. And how long after Alexei died were you in Russia, going from one mission to the next like an automaton?"

Gritting her teeth in irritation, Natasha yanked herself away from him and started pulling on her clothes in jerky motions.

"Natasha," Bucky sighed, getting out of bed. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what? Leave? It's what I do best."

"No, it isn't," he protested.

She felt too damn much, that was her problem. And she hated how vulnerable and afraid it made her feel. She could hide her emotions, move past her fear, let it sharpen her senses and let her move fast enough to battle her enemies.

But there was no escaping herself.

"It's daylight," she snapped, getting into her cat suit. "I have to get back to the tower."

"Not like this, please, Natasha."

"Like what?"

"Like this means nothing. Like you mean nothing."

"Oh, no, you've got that wrong," Natasha said. "I know my worth, Bucky. I'm a killer. The bad guy, the lonely one. I didn't ask for this, and it doesn't matter if I want it or not. This is what I've got, and all I can offer. You want more than that, and I simply don't have it in me."

"I don't believe that, Natasha."

Too perceptive and capable for her comfort. "You're a good man, Bucky. And I'm only good at being bad."

"That's not true," he protested, getting to his feet.

"Yes, it is," Natasha told him coldly. "I'm the Black Widow, remember? All I do is leave behind dead bodies." She packed all her gear and strapped on her weapons, lips pressed tightly together. "Someday, maybe, even yours."

Bucky looked at her with the most mournful expression she had ever seen. "It doesn't have to be this way, Natasha."

"Yes, it does," she replied, opening the bedroom door. "See you around, Bucky."

But even as she left his safe house, she could hear him call out after her. "I still love you, Natasha. I wish you weren't afraid of that."

As horrible as it made her feel, she was.

***

Steve knocked on the door to Natasha's room. She was lying face down on her bed where Clint had left her two hours ago. He had declared her an emotionally constipated idiot, then left her to ponder that. She didn't have to; she had known that the entire argument was a mistake as soon as the panic was gone.

It was a good thing that Bucky loved her anyway. She was indeed an idiot.

"Hey, Natasha."

"Hey, Steve," she mumbled, not looking up.

"Sam made it up from DC. We're looking to do a little something special, and I know he'd love to see you." Natasha groaned. "Not in that way. But it's been a year since you joined the group, and he wanted to throw a party in your honor."

"I don't deserve a party."

"That's not true!" Steve exclaimed, coming into her room. "You are the hardest fighter, a great strategist, a wonderful teacher to the newbs..."

"Oh, God, enough with the superlatives," she cried, turning to look at him. "I'm a fucking idiot when it comes to myself outside of the mission, okay? I can do that easily. It's nothing to kill. The art is if I make them suffer first."

Steve sighed and then sat down on the floor beside her bed, folding his arms over his knees. He peered at her over his arms, eyes patient and kind. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

For a moment, she thought he would insist on it. But he simply sat there in silence. She was comfortable with silence, used to it from Russia. There had been few if any friendships in the Red Room cell, only seasoned killers ranking themselves against each other. There hadn't been a sense of family with them, not like she had with the Avengers now.

"I had a family once, you know," Steve said after a while. It must have been about ten minutes of silence. "My pa died first, caught by vampires when he was coming home late."

"I didn't know that."

"It made me want to join up the hunter teams. My ma's health wasn't ever good, but it took a nosedive after Dad died. She worked hard to cover bills on her own, and I tried lying about my age and health to sign up as a hunter. They have fantastic death benefits, after all. I figured she'd be set, wouldn't have to work so hard."

"But it didn't work out that way."

"Of course not. She died, and I stayed with Bucky. He was like a brother to me, and his family had helped us out for years already. They're all gone now."

Natasha froze. "What?"

"Bucky and I were hunters. Well, someone followed him home once, we thought. And while we were out... He had parents and three sisters. As best as we figure, they were human. Assaulted them all, then slit their throats as a warning. Humans working for vamps, we thought, smoked 'em out with a vengeance."

Sitting up, she gaped at Steve. "You?"

"I know the price we pay because we paid it. We got cocky and stupid, and our family was tortured. Doesn't matter we got 'em back in the end. We still lost."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. But I didn't tell you to be sorry."

"So why did you?"

"Because everyone thinks I'm some kind of saint, like I can't do any wrong. But I can be wrong, Natasha. I have horrible nightmares I can't do anything about. I miss my family and would do anything to get them back." He pressed his lips together in a sympathetic expression and grasped her arm. "Whatever your stupid was, I can try to help you fix it."

"I don't think you can. I don't think anyone can."

"Try me," Steve challenged.

"I've been sleeping with the Winter Soldier."

Steve blinked in slack jawed surprise. "Oh."

"And he loves me."

"Oh." He gave her a long look. "And you can't accept it, can you?"

"You're being awfully calm about this."

Sighing, Steve rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "I can't afford to be judgmental, Natasha. This isn't something I'm happy with, but I suppose it makes sense. He's been helping us, you've been with him a lot... Proximity. Exposure. Your good nature." He paused and sighed again. "I don't know what to feel about this, and I'm guessing you don't either, or you wouldn't call yourself stupid over it."

"You don't approve," Natasha observed, feeling a tight knot of nerves in her gut.

"I don't disapprove, either," Steve said carefully. "I'm not stupid, I've wondered about this before. All the night away, long patrols uptown..." He sighed at her downcast expression. "You didn't trust me?" he asked, sounding a little hurt.

"I didn't want you to hate me," Natasha admitted in a tiny voice after a moment. "You all are like my family. I couldn't lose that."

Steve gave her a sad smile. "Too few of those anymore."

"Which is why I didn't want to lose the one I've got."

Steve pulled her off the bed and into a tight embrace. "You won't lose me."

"Even if I'm with the Winter Soldier?"

"You might want to get an actual name for him," Steve teased.

"It's James," Natasha murmured softly.

"That's a good name," Steve said. Natasha felt like a heel.

"He's got secrets. He made me keep some."

Throwing Bucky under the bus had to be low. It certainly made her feel that way.

Looking closely at her, Steve thought for a moment. "You're used to keeping secrets. That's not what bothers you."

"He loves me."

"That's usually a good thing."

"Not in my case," Natasha replied.

"Because you're a hunter?"

"Because I'm cursed. Nothing ever works out for me."

"This could be different."

"That's what he wants to think."

Steve nodded. "There are too many unknowns to think about. You dying or him dying, loss of control, infection..." His voice trailed off. "I don't have advice for you, you're right about that. I can't fix it, I can't decide for you. But I'll be here, no matter what you decide on."

Natasha smiled warmly and took his extended hand. "Thank you, Steve. That helps. It really does," she added at his dubious look. "Still don't know what I'm going to do, though."

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, Natasha. I can tell you that much."

"And I knew _that_ already," she returned wryly.

"Did James insist on you saying anything back? Making promises to him? Betraying us?"

"No." Unless keeping his identity a secret from Steve was a betrayal.

"Then just wait it out." Steve leaned in and kissed her cheek. "We're connected, all of us. Be careful if you pull out that thread."

"What do you mean?"

"The point is, you don't _have_ to do it alone all the time. Not for fighting, not for figuring out what to do, not for just being together. If you isolate yourself, there's no backup when you really need it."

"Before this year, I didn't have backup."

"I know. I've heard what the Red Room group was like from Ivan and Fury. Not my idea of a good place. You can't trust anyone there."

"No, I couldn't."

"And they'd never wait out your silence to talk."

Natasha gave him a faint smile. "No. That was _my_ technique."

Steve grinned. "Useful trick. Bucky used it a lot, too, when I got into a good sulk."

"You?" she asked, amazed.

"People always forget. I'm a good guy, but I break rules I think are stupid. Like not joining up hunter training until you're sixteen."

She couldn't help but laugh. "You were a scrawny kid, though."

"Didn't matter to me then. But the kind of guy I am. I do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, even if maybe there's a better way to do it."

"So what would you do if you were me?" Natasha asked, curious.

"Depends on what I feel. If I loved this guy? I'd tell him. Life's too fucking short to play around."

"Everyone I ever cared about died."

"We haven't. He already has," Steve pointed out.

Natasha looked down, troubled. "You're assuming a lot."

"But I'm not wrong."

"You're not wrong," she agreed.

"Don't say it, if you don't have to. But you feel it. I don't understand it, but I don't have to. He's helped us, he's protected you, he saved Clint's life, he loves you. Trust me, Natasha, love is a gift. Don't throw it away when you get it."

She looked up, biting her lip anxiously. "I'm scared of losing him. I don't know if I can live through it again."

Steve's expression was infinitely kind, patient and sad. "If it comes down to it, yes, you can. Because this time, we're with you. You won't deal with anything alone."

Natasha threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "That means a lot to me, Steve," she said, voice thick with emotion.

He hugged her tightly. "Anytime, Natasha. I mean it. The others do, too. Even Tony."

Laughing, she hugged him back. "Okay, then. You said something about a party, right? Let's go party, then."

"Thatta girl," he said approvingly.

***  
***


	5. Traps

After texting Bucky to meet her at his West 83rd street basement apartment, Natasha carefully dressed for the night and hit the street without any of the Avengers. There was one baby vampire in the upper 60's that thought she was easy prey, but Natasha let herself fly free. She used her fists first, pummeling at her face and knocking her off balance. Then Natasha used a roundhouse kick to stagger her, and dropped to the ground to sweep her feet out from under her. It was quick work with her knives after that, and she sprinted the next eighteen blocks. She was footsore and breathless, sweating and feeling almost desperate.

As soon as Bucky locked the door behind her, Natasha attacked his belt buckld and whipped his belt right out of the loops. "Natasha?" he asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Shut up," she said, though her lips curled in a sensuous smile. "We've both been idiots."

"Yeah," he agreed, then gasped a little when she sank to her knees and dragged his jeans and underwear to his ankles. "Isn't that part of the territory with falling in love?"

"You talk too much for this," Natasha declared, then took him into her mouth. Bucky let out a strangled moan, one that made her smile around him. Why did she think she couldn't have this?

She swallowed him down, a slight salty tang to the dry wine flavor his blood had for her. "I may have acted badly before."

"May have," Bucky echoed, exhaling deeply. "But I think you aren't used to things working out for you."

"Anytime something good happens," Natasha agreed, "it doesn't last for long. Something comes along and ruins it."

"What changed your mind?"

"Clint. Steve." At his incredulous look, she laughed. "They knew I was upset by something. Even without the whole story, they talked with me and helped me realize something."

"What?"

"I'm not alone the way I used to be." She got to her feet and looped her arms around him. "I was somehow turned into the bad girl, the one that got the job done and was assumed to have no feelings. They all said I was comfortable with everything, meaning all the horrible things that had to be done..." Her voice trailed off, and he nodded in understanding. "But a spider alone is a dangerous thing, and I didn't think I had a lot to lose. Talking with them... I do. I'm _not_ alone anymore. And I like that. I like having friends. I like having a place to go to, people I can rely on." She ran her hand down his chest. "I like having someone to meet with. Someone that's all _mine."_

"I like being someone's," Bucky replied, closing his hand over hers. He bent down to kiss her. "I like that a lot."

"It's not going to be easy for me. I'm not used to it."

"It's been a long time for me, too," he murmured. "I didn't think I could find love again."

"Me, neither," she admitted.

"So we go slow, that's all."

"Except for the sex part," Natasha suggested, reaching down.

Bucky laughed, nodding. "No need to change what works."

"Exactly. So... You. Me. Bed."

"I'm a fan of that threesome."

"Idiot," Natasha said fondly.

"Your idiot, though."

"Yeah. You're mine. Just no getting rid of you, I guess."

"Nope," Bucky replied, a trace of pride in his voice.

"Whatever shall we do, then?" she asked, lip curling into a sultry smile.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something," he replied with a small smile of his own.

This was lovemaking, even if she wasn't quite comfortable enough to say the word yet. The kisses were soft and tender, the touches were gentle caresses. Bucky moved slowly, staring at her, gaze intense. He kept saying _I love you_ with his yes eyes. Unable to say it aloud, Natasha threw her head back, exposing the line of her throat. "I trust you," she murmured, pressing his head down. And really, for her it was the same thing. Love was trusting someone else completely, and somehow Bucky had fallen into that category.

Afterward, Natasha sprawled on the bed on her stomach, gloriously naked, sheet pulled to the waist. Bucky slid out of bed. "Where are you going?"

"You need juice. I took a bit more than I meant to," Bucky replied sheepishly. "Too excited... I got carried away in the heat of the moment."

"Idiot," she said fondly, patting the bed. "Come back to bed. I'm fine. I'll get some juice in the morning when I get breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased, sliding back in beside her.

"For future reference, frozen from concentrate or Gatorades will work just fine," Natasha said, snuggling up to him. She rested her chin on his chest and smiled. "But it's touching that you care about things like that."

"I'll always try to take care of you if I can. If you're cold, need backup..."

"I think we've had this conversation before," she teased.

"Maybe," Bucky replied with a grin, stroking her back.

"So we'll hunt Schmidt."

Bucky sighed. "There's about thirty of them. Two of us."

"We can get the others in with us. New UV tech..."

"It would kill Steve to know what's become of me. I can't do that to him. It's better he remembers me as I was."

"He misses you. After all this time, there's still a lot of pain in remembering the loss of you. But he'll understand. He's capable of more than you think."

Shaking his head, Bucky looked off in the distance. "I can't take that chance. I just can't."

Natasha sighed, but wouldn't press any further. "All the teams have been going after Schmidt's hunting parties, but he keeps making more vamps to go out and hunt."

"So you think it's a lost cause."

"I think we need to take it to the source. Destroy the leader, then they call collapse. It works with every other nest."

"Other nests don't have over thirty vampires in them," Bucky pointed out.

"Bruce has been working on a UV bomb. It explodes, generating a bright source of UV light on its own. No power cords for vamps to cut, no batteries to pull out."

"I couldn't help you, then."

"If Steve's leading the charge, you can't be there, anyway."

Bucky sighed, conceding the logic. "I want to protect you."

"I'm not fragile."

"Not in that way."

Natasha let out a long breath before pressing her lips to his chest. "Not in that way," she agreed.

"We'll look for where in Morningside Heights he's located, then. Tomorrow night. You can call in your people with the address once we know it."

"All right. And we'll suit up to the max, just in case."

"We? I don't need armor. I'm already dead, remember?"

"They can still kill you again. Not on my watch."

"Harder than my old CO," Bucky joked.

"Why? What did Steve say?"

"If you're killed, walk it off." He sobered, lips pressing together. "I guess I did."

"You said it—death doesn't take. So we'll use it, and make sure Schmidt and Zola go down for good. No off screen TV villain death, but surefire dismemberment and fire."

"You're vicious. I love it."

Natasha turned and settled herself in the crook of his arm. "Fire purifies, and it's a way to be sure the virus won't try to replicate his tissues and save him. I want them all _dead_ and the city safe. I have to be sure."

Bucky curled his arm around her; she tactfully never asked where he got his replacement left arm. "One city at a time, the night will be under control again."

Neither spoke of a future after that, not when they were working toward a future that had no place for him in it. They would deal with that when it came.

***

Kevlar catsuit on, metal neck guard in place, hair pulled back into a sleek red ponytail, comfortable kickass heeled boots. Her gauntlets carried tasers, newly created taser discs she could throw, her one shot derringer, cable line, communicator and GPS. The communicator was hooked to her earpiece wirelessly via Bluetooth, allowing her to relay things to the group, and it was small enough to fit inside her ear, rather like a hearing aid. Though she had twin Glock 19 pistols, her silvered knives and even batons, the rest weren't too comfortable with her going for reconnaissance with Bucky.

"If that's where the nest is, you're in terrible danger once night falls," Steve began.

"GPS is only going to get us so far," Tony pointed out. "It will give us coordinates, but will assume you're above ground, and can't tell us how far below ground you are, which defunct subway line you go down..."

"I'm a sneaky bitch," Natasha told them sweetly. "And I know now that if I douse myself in vampire blood, they'll think I'm one of them."

"One, gross," Clint began. "Two, unreliable at best."

She held up a hand to forestall further arguments. "You can come with me. And maybe the rest of you can conveniently be nearby. If shit hits the fan, you can't go eighty or ninety blocks in an instant. You'll be right there if I need you."

"The Winter Soldier won't bolt?" Carol asked.

"If it goes tits up, I'm sure that's the least of our worries," Natasha replied. "I don't expect trouble, but I'd rather be prepared for it if it comes."

The others could respect that, and agreed to patrol the upper limits of the Upper West Side while she and the Winter Soldier started to explore Morningside Heights. Natasha met Bucky at the safe house, and they went north toward the neighborhood in question. He was in tactical gear, pistols and knives strapped to his chest, back and thigh, buckles everywhere. His stride was purposeful and strong, and mentally Natasha made note of it; once they were done, she planned to peel that outfit off of him and have her wicked way with him.

They were at the edges of Columbia University's property when the shadows began to shift a bit. "Bucky," she said in a low tone, "it's ten o'clock, right?"

He snorted. "I'd say six, nine and ten."

"Doable?"

"Oh, you certainly are," he purred.

"Idiot," she replied, though she couldn't help but grin back at him. "How far out?"

"Ten's in ten. We can take him. Six and nine and closing in, so let's make it fast."

Natasha took off at a dead run, removing a knife as she did so. As opposed to the baby vamps that had been sent out in twos and threes, this one knew what he was doing. He dodged her initial lunge, twisting away and punching toward her. She moved in close, within range of his arms, making it more difficult for him to maneuver to strike her. Natasha punched his solar plexus, the knife shredding his shirt. Twisting her fist, it then sliced into his skin. He hit downward, catching her shoulder, which she had expected. The horse stance she had taken was grounding, so she didn't fall or stagger to her knees. Instead, she drew out her other knife and buried it in his chest, right where his heart was. As his nails curled to dig into the Kevlar covering her shoulder, Natasha twisted the knife and drew the other one across his throat.

A shower of blood covered her from head to toe, and the vampire jerked back to cover the wound at his throat with his hands. In the meantime, Bucky had moved past them to attack the other two vampires, but Natasha saw the shadows shift around them again.

It was a trap.

She hit the button on her gauntlet to dial Steve as she yanked out her blades. "I don't know how many," she said as soon as he picked up. "Move quickly!"

"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, I think this is a trap!"

The two were fighting Bucky. They went down easily, hearts pulled out of their chests, but five more came out of the shadows toward them. Thrown knives didn't slow them far enough for Natasha's liking. Once she and Bucky were back to back, her Glocks in hand, she fired. "I think I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said, aware of Steve's gasp of shock. "I'm sorry I had to keep that a secret."

"We're not dead yet."

"No. but if more arrive, it's going to be a tougher fight."

He groaned when looking around. "You _had_ to say something..."

"How many?" she asked, shooting at the two vampires in front of her. The 9mm slugs were meant to shatter inside the body, spreading silver widely. They were staggered, but not out for the count, and she was out of knives. Only two more magazines, too. Using the batons meant she would have to close in too much for her liking just then.

"Ten more coming."

"Ten more? We drew out half the nest?"

"Apparently so. We're just that good," Bucky replied.

"We're closing in," Steve said via her earpiece. "And Natasha, you'd better have answers for me."

"Let's dance," Natasha declared.

She ran forward and kicked one vampire in the chest, knocking him into the one behind him. Other than the near indestructibility and increased speed, these used to be ordinary people with no fighting skill. When they swung, it was wide and sloppy. Vaulting herself over the staggering vampire, she drew out her grappling line, using it as a garrote as she kicked the next vampire with both feet. That one fell to the ground, and she pulled the first one headfirst to the ground. The garrote sliced through skin fairly efficiently, and a harder tug cut through to the jugular. She stomped on the cervical spine of the vampire beneath her feet, driving her heels into the bone to sever the spinal cord.

The heel went through the neck, her stomp harder than she expected it to be. In fact, thinking about it, all of her strikes had been harder, as if she was stronger than before, more resilient than before. Still, this wasn't the time to ponder that.

These two had carried knives. Perfect. She cut off their heads with them; the grating of bone on ordinary steel went down the blades, even breaking one. But these two definitely wouldn't come back to life again.

Unfortunately, it allowed two more to get close to her, one grabbing her arm. She tried to sink her teeth through the Kevlar, and Natasha pulled her closer while drawing her fist back to smash her in the face. There was the crunch of bone beneath her knuckles as the nose broke, and Natasha reached out with an activated gauntlet to tase the other insensible. Natasha kept punching the woman in the face, then pushed her to the ground. The most she could do was use the broken knives to slit her throat, gouging as deeply as she could, hoping she'd bleed out faster than the virus could repair her.

Bucky was holding his own, and she understood now why he had worn gloves – the knives were silvered, likely from his hunter days. Three were dead at his feet, another choking on his own blood, and another with the telltale blackening of the silver poisoning from the knife.

Natasha screamed "Behind you!" when she saw three more vampires arrive. Moving forward, she forgot the first rule of fighting she had ever learned – be aware of her surroundings. One grasped her arm and yanked her off her feet. She landed badly, the wind knocked out of her, but her neck guard prevented the teeth from sinking into her neck.

She punched him in the throat, making him gasp. This one used to be a gangbanger, though. He knew how to fight dirty. A knee to the groin drove the breath from him, and Natasha pushed him over. Clambering on top of him, she actually reached into his mouth and grasped his fangs with her fingers, then snapped off his teeth. The gangbanger howled in pain, and she drew one fang across his throat, then leapt to her feet. They weren't good for throwing, but up close and personal? It might just be a nasty little surprise.

Panting a little, Natasha looked around. "Dunno how many more there are now."

"We're attacking them on the other side of you," Steve said in her ear. "I don't know either, but we're coming as fast as we can."

Spinning around as her instincts kicked in, Natasha avoided taking a wooden slat to the head. Instead, it hit her shoulder. It was the same one hit by the vampire earlier, making her stagger and shout in pain.

Suddenly, Bucky was there, putting his fist through the vampire's chest. "You hurt Natasha. That was your last act on earth, pal."

She laughed, it was so ridiculous. Declarations of love via madness, mayhem and violence? It hadn't even been like that with Nicholai and Alexei.

The laughter turned into another gasp of outrage. One of the earlier trio was still alive despite missing an arm and lower jaw. Natasha turned and saw two more heading toward her. These two were undamaged and fast. "We're outnumbered."

"Always were," Bucky said just as Steve said "We're coming as fast as we can!" via the earpiece.

"We got maybe a third of their forces. Think that's enough?" Bucky added.

Natasha shook her head. "Schmidt and Zola are still in there somewhere. I'm thinking... We need to get taken prisoner."

 _"What?!"_ Steve and Bucky yelled incredulously.

"I still have taser charges and my lines. And batons." She pocketed the broken teeth. They were last ditch effort weapons, not really worth counting. "If we take them out, the nest is dead. Otherwise, if we retreat now, they'll recruit off campus and will have their numbers back up tomorrow night."

"I don't like this plan," Bucky told her as Steve said "That's dangerous. I can't ask you to do this."

"This is my idea," Natasha said, raising her hands as if conceding defeat. "I think it'll work."

"Jesus Christ, I hope so," Bucky muttered, putting his arms up.

Steve, in the meantime, insisted they were only five minutes away. "Don't do anything stupid!" he cried.

A lot could happen in five minutes. They all knew that.

These vampires weren't dumb, and one called for more. It took a lot for Natasha to tamp down on her instinct to lunge and attack the two in front of them. Bucky must have sensed her tension, because he whispered "We could do it. More of 'em coming."

She nodded fractionally. "Two more, then we can reasonably look tired and cowed."

"Crap," Steve said, sounding frustrated. "Five more just showed up. It'll be more than five minutes now. Sorry."

Natasha looked at Bucky and smiled. "Wanna dance?"

He laughed, amused. "With you? Always."

The two vampires in front of them approached cautiously. "There's more coming," the woman said. The anxiety in her tone told Natasha that she wasn't a fighter. This one probably had been turned for sheer numbers, not for any particular ability. "You should stop fighting."

"You're taking us to Schmidt," Natasha returned as she came closer. Natasha realized that all the vampire blood on her likely masked the markers that told them she was human. They probably thought she and Bucky were rogue vampires to be contained, killed, or brought into the fold.

"If you beg nicely, he'll forgive you. You don't have to be punished so severely."

Which told Natasha this one had been at one point. Perhaps that was why she was so hesitant now, not because she wasn't a fighter. Maybe she thought she was doing Natasha a favor.

"We'll see what he thinks," she replied, easing forward. "Do you really think he'll forgive us?"

"You just have to ask forgiveness," the vampire replied eagerly.

Natasha smiled warmly as she got into arm's length. Bucky had been doing the same with her companion, a goth girl that managed to look pale despite her dark skin.

"You know, I really don't think he's going to be a forgiving kind of guy," Natasha replied, her smile going brittle. It was all the warning the vampire got before Natasha punched her in the throat, making her gag and clutch at her neck. Natasha kicked at her knees as she moved past her, circling around to her back. The vampire tried to lash out at her, but Natasha ducked low, under her swinging arm, and yanked on the knee she had kicked. It buckled, sending the vampire crashing down to the ground. Natasha easily got her into a choke hold, ignoring the nails clawing at her face when the vampire realized the Kevlar wouldn't shred. When the flailing grew less frantic, Natasha tightened her grip on the neck and head, then _pulled_ until she heard a loud crack. She rifled through the vampire's pockets but found nothing aside from a phone, keycard and metal nail file. She pocketed them, then used a baton to bash in the vampire's head, just in case broken vertebrae could be repaired by the virus.

As she avoided some sprays of blood, Natasha looked over at Bucky. He had charged the other vampire when she had gone after hers. He had hit her in the solar plexus, then grabbed the arm she swung at him. Yanking hard on that arm, Bucky also punched her in the chest. There was the sound of cracking ribs, and Bucky leaned in to sink his teeth in her throat. Her screech of pain and fury turned into gurgles. Once he'd slurped up the blood, he punched her chest again, breaking through ribs. He closed his hand around her heart and yanked backward as he used his other hand to push her body away from him.

Bucky was clearly disconcerted to see Natasha watching him, and self-consciously licked the blood off of his lips. "Um. That was really violent."

"And you looked really hot doing it," Natasha assured him. "We need to—"

The backup that the vampires called must have been different from the team Steve and the others were fighting. "Shit," Bucky intoned, seeing the six that showed up. Tired, low on weapons, outnumbered... This time, they put their hands up in surrender and meant it.

Seeing the sprawled dead bodies around the two of them, the six new vampires took no chances. They surrounded the two and rushed in at once. Two each held Bucky and Natasha. One led the way, and one looked about for any other compatriots. The duo were frog marched toward campus, and none of the six answered Natasha's questions when she tried to quiz them on which building they were being brought to. That would give Steve ample data to figure out where they were going, she figured, and it also kept her mind whirring in directions other than her impending death.

With the mentions of both Schmidt and Zola, Bucky had grown very tense. Natasha fell silent then, eyeing him a little anxiously. "Are you okay?"

That seemed to snap him out of it for a bit, but then the two vampires carrying him yanked on his arms roughly. There was a wet tearing sound from his left shoulder that made Natasha wince. Bucky made a low growling noise in his throat, and Natasha hoped it meant he was marking that one for death. If not, she would gladly do it herself.

It turned out that the college was just a cover and probable source of "recruits." They actually led Natasha and Bucky through the basement of one building, ignoring her low voice as she gave directions that they went in. "Hey," she said finally, looking around. "Did you guys tunnel into an old subway station in the sewer?"

Instead of an answer, she was struck roughly on the back of her head. It nearly knocked out her earpiece, and she growled at the brunet vampire to cover the rising nausea and fear.

What if they _didn't_ make it?

This wasn't the first time she'd thought it, but she also had no idea what they were facing. Schmidt had obviously planned ahead for hunters coming too close to his lair, just as they had plans for vampires coming too close to the tower. The game they played was too dangerous, too deadly, and there could be only one winner in the end.

When they were finally brought through the tunnel into a large, open area, Natasha looked around critically. "My vote is for abandoned subway station."

It was a large, open area not unlike a subway platform, complete with white rectangular tiles on the walls. The location tiles had all been painstakingly chiseled off the walls and pillars, and from what Natasha could see, the same had been done on the other side. The ends of the platform had been bricked off, and the actual subway line appeared intact. No lights were on overhead, lending more to the abandoned subway theory. The only lights available were lanterns perched on the edges of the platform, the light flickering.

"Take the tunnel," one of the vampires holding Bucky told the one that hit Natasha. The other two vampires not holding them disappeared down another hallway, presumably to tell Schmidt or Zola that they were captured. "The receiving room should be empty now. They're together, set 'em up as we usually do."

That turned out to be tying Natasha to a chair at gunpoint. Not aimed at her, no. The gun was aimed at Bucky's head, and their captors would pull the trigger if she gave them any trouble. And they would pull the trigger if he gave them trouble, either. "Go on, hero," one sneered, leering at Natasha. "Struggle. Give us a reason. Then it'll be four of us and one of her, and she _won't_ like what we have in mind."

Natasha didn't even say anything snarky about being tied up by amateurs. Once they finished, she looked over her shoulder behind her. She was at the edge of the "room," which was a tiered set of rooms built into the unused subway tunnel. If she was pushed, she would fall onto the tracks some sixty feet below, and probably die. Or, if she didn't die right away, she'd probably wish she did.

Fuck that plan. She was going to live.

"Lenny, we should kill him anyway. Pretty face like hers... Zola's gonna take 'em, we'd never get another chance."

They approached Bucky, gun extended. "You really think I'm pretty?" she asked, distracting them from killing him.

One approached, then grasped her jaw. He turned her head back and forth; she allowed it, seeing the gun still aimed at Bucky. "Such a pretty face," the leader said. "It'll be a shame to fuck it up," he added, just before backhanding her.

Natasha met Bucky's gaze, then sharply looked over to the side. She hoped that he would understand she was about to make her move.

Stomping down on his foot, she tensed her body and smashed her head into his as his body jerked in surprise. It was a simple hopping spin that sent the chair colliding with the jerk, and he went spinning over the edge. The two goons with the gun on Bucky turned to watch incredulously as she approached her other captor, still tied to the chair. She kicked him in the shin, hopping a little before spinning the chair into him with all her might. Natasha heard the crack of the chair that she was hoping for, and then fell onto it with as much force as she could. The chair splintered, freeing her. She ran up to the vampire she attacked, parts of the chair still attached to her arms. Natasha practically climbed up his thighs as he brought up a gun, and smashed one of the wooden chair arms against his face. He was still trying to shoot her, so she tilted down toward the ground, upsetting his balance. Landing on top of him, Natasha slammed the arm of the chair into his chest, staking him through the heart.

Bucky in the meantime had used her attack as a distraction. The one holding the gun had been seized and slammed into the wall hard enough cave in his skull. Bucky then used his body as a shield when the other began to shoot his gun. Left arm useless, he had to let the twitching vampire corpse sag against him as he took the gun to shoot.

Natasha seized pieces of the chair and threw them at the goon shooting at Bucky. Every time he ducked out of the way instinctively, he approached the edge of the platform. Realizing what Natasha meant to do, Bucky dropped the gun and shoved the body leaning against him at the other goon. The weight gave him too much momentum, and he toppled over the edge, falling the sixty feet to the ground below.

"Good teamwork," Natasha said with a smile.

He returned it, then looked down at the staked vampire. "No silver poisoning on this one."

"What are you thinking?" Natasha asked with a frown.

"The human arm was nearly ripped off. I can't use it."

Catching his meaning, she nodded. "Make an exchange, I'll see what I can salvage."

Stripping to the waist, Bucky ripped off the human arm and then started working on the vampire's left arm. Natasha grabbed fallen pistols and knives, checking on the magazines as he did so. She avoided watching him work; it was one thing to know he needed to do this, another to actually see it.

"Two USP Compacts, one with five bullets, one with six. Three knives, none of them silvered. Some wood we could use as stakes. One chain that was used as a belt we could probably repurpose as a weapon."

"Not much," Bucky commented with a sigh.

"I've worked with less," Natasha replied, looking up. Bucky was still pushing the new arm against the socket, waiting for the virus to knit the edges together. He grimaced the entire time, so Natasha approached and touched his torso gently with her fingertips. "Is that painful?"

"Like a nasty itch," he murmured. "I want to rip it off, but I need it to attach. Once it does, I should be okay. You can keep the weapons."

"You sure? Take the knife," she said, pressing one into an empty sheath. It was the biggest one, nearly the size of a machete. "You're just as good a shot."

"But I can use my strength to rip them apart. You can't." He looked anxiously toward the doorway. "And no way they missed the shots or yelling. They'll have a welcome committee waiting for us."

And with her earpiece silent, maybe damaged, Natasha had no idea how long it would take Steve and company to find them, if they ever made it this far.

"Are you ready?"

"The blood still needs to do its work."

Natasha bit her lip and then looked down at the body of the vampire he'd taken the arm from. Sighing "Gross" under her breath, Natasha scooped up some of the congealing blood in her hands and worked it into the wound to try to make it seal faster. Bucky winced and laughed at intervals, amused by her impatience.

After a minute, Bucky rolled his shoulder. "Good enough for now. Let's go. The attachment will get better in time."

"Better than a human arm, I hope."

"We'll see. I hadn't gotten a vampire one before."

"Okay, then. Live test," Natasha murmured. "Hopefully it won't backfire in our faces."

They went through the door and crept along the hallway until they heard voices. It was another cavernous space, with alcoves set into one wall. Most had people strapped onto tables, some sort of contraption around their heads and necks, IV poles set up beside them. A tall man with rigid posture stood with his back to them, a shorter and more rotund man next to him, glasses and a receding hairline visible from their position across the cavern. He seemed exceedingly pleased with himself, and smiled thinly. "The procedure has already begun."

"Excellent," the tall man replied, his accent different from the shorter man's. Natasha recognized it as German. "Proceed with the rest of the procedure. Should they expire, we will procure more subjects for you."

Bucky had gone very still, staring at the shorter man with an intensity that frightened Natasha. "I killed him. I set the place on fire..."

"I'm guessing that's Zola."

He nodded, a little uncertainly. "I never knew his name. I played along just long enough to learn a few things, then set it all on fire."

"You take Schmidt, I take Zola," Natasha said firmly, patting his arm.

"Fraulein," Zola said, sounding amused as he turned around. "So pleased you can join us." He looked positively gleeful as he took in Bucky. "And he's home now."

"That's where you're wrong," Bucky snapped, his entire body thrumming with tension.

Somewhere in the distance was the sound of shouting and shooting, but there was no time to contemplate it. Bucky grabbed Natasha around the waist and _leapt_ across the space of the cavern. While in the air, Natasha grasped the two remaining knives in hand. As soon as they touched down, she launched herself at Zola and left Bucky to go after Schmidt.

Zola moved fast, and used one of the exam tables as a shield. The distant shouting became louder, and sounded like the rest of the Avengers team. Natasha ignored it and focused on Zola, slashing out and keeping him on the move. "It's too late, fraulein!" Zola chortled. "It's begun!"

"What's done?" she asked, feinting right before slashing at his chest with the knives. It bit deep, blood spilling, even as his nails ripped at her chest. They didn't break through, so Natasha ignored the pain of it, instead focusing on his face. Zola wasn't a great fighter at all, and only ducked or hid. He screeched when she slashed at him, ignoring her own wounds, cutting apart his hands and chest. Taking a page from Bucky's book, she focused on his chest until she could remove Zola's heart, and slashed his throat deep enough to strike bone.

Looking around finally, she could see that the IV infusions had silver in it, and the vampires strapped down had signs of poisoning, but less severe than she would have expected.

Apparently, Zola was trying to create silver immunity.

Horrified, Natasha used the blunted and ruined knives to hack her way through Zola's spinal column in order to decapitate him. He couldn't be allowed to live and keep experimenting. The terror in Bucky's eyes upon seeing Zola wouldn't leave her. She hacked until the blades snapped, but kept using the broken edges to cut and cut and cut, fractions of an inch at a time, growling with the intensity of her anger at Zola.

The shouts of the incoming Avengers brought her back to herself. Bucky had chased Schmidt into another testing alcove, and another victim had been torn limb from limb in it. His blood covered Schmidt from head to tie, and it looked like he had smeared it over his face and hair. That red blood plastered his hair to his head, and his eerie grin and sharp features made him look like he had a red skull. It was likely meant to be a scare tactic, which seemed to work on Bruce.

Wait, Bruce?

In fact, their usual team was augmented with Sharon, Sam, Rhodey, Carol, Pepper, the Maximoff twins and Bruce. He looked positively green at the sight of Schmidt, and Natasha couldn't blame him. Vampire master in a nest of over thirty vampires? That was fearsome enough. But make him batshit crazy and willing to sacrifice his own followers? That was downright terrifying. There was no way to predict what he would do.

But they were all together, shooting, stabbing and firing at every vampire that tried to protect Schmidt. Steve and Bucky were fighting, rapid hand to hand. Schmidt kept landing blows on Steve, his red lips drawn back in a snarl. But as he focused on Steve, Bucky grasped the machete and thrust it into Schmidt's back. Roaring in fury, Schmidt turned and backhanded Bucky across the face. He staggered at the blow but didn't fall, and Steve grabbed the machete, pulling down on the handle until the blade bit into bone. Schmidt turned and kicked Steve in the chest, but an arrow from Clint kept Schmidt from following through. Bucky knocked Schmidt down to the ground, ignoring the blows to the head, neck and shoulders. Steve rolled over to his knees, walking over to Schmidt and yanking on his bloody face. Bucky kept getting hit in the head as he pinned Schmidt down, but the vampire couldn't otherwise move despite his struggles. Even when it looked like Schmidt broke part of Bucky's skull near his ear, he didn't give up.

Steve grabbed a silvered knife from his waist sheath and brought it down on Schmidt's neck. Natasha watched as Steve continued to cut, hacking at Schmidt until he fell still beneath Bucky, until his head rolled to the side and the pool of blackened blood covered them all.

There were still sounds of other battles, pained cries as the Avengers took on wounds. But Natasha heard none of it. Bucky wasn't moving, and she staggered to his side in a daze, calling his name. Why wasn't he moving?

"Use the flash bomb now!" Bruce yelled somewhere behind them.

Natasha didn't understand why Steve pulled Bucky away from Schmidt and behind a fallen table, not until a bright flash of light as bright as the sun started shining. Vampires wounded or fighting screamed as Bruce's sun substitute shone blindingly bright throughout the cavern, instantly beginning to burn them all where they stood.

When the brightness died down enough so she could see, most of Schmidt's body had burned away to bone and ash. Turning her head, the same could be said of Zola and the other vampires in the cavernous room. She blinked, but the spots in her vision persisted. She stumbled to the other side of the table and saw Steve cradling Bucky in his lap, a stricken expression on his face. He looked up when she knelt beside them, feeling tired and weary all at once. "I'm sorry, I couldn't tell you."

"What if he doesn't recover from this?" Steve asked, voice raw with pain. "He could've come to me. I wouldn't've turned him away..."

"He was scared you would," Natasha murmured.

"No matter what he's done, I'd always be his friend," Steve said brokenly.

Bucky was too still, the side of his head caved in from Schmidt's blows, blood smeared near his ear and temple. Natasha wanted to cry at the sight of him, and couldn't do much more than cup his face in her hands. His head turned then, a jerky motion, tongue at his lips. That made her realize she was covered in blood of various forms. Looking up at Steve as she pulled her hands away to unhook her gauntlets, she murmured "He needs to heal."

Steve offered up his wrist first, and Natasha took over once she got her gauntlets off. The others came closer, and each offered to help feed Bucky so he could heal. They all watched as the wounds pushed back out, his head reforming and looking like himself again. Still, he didn't move, didn't look like anything other than a bloody corpse. "We take him back with us," Steve said, voice rough with emotion. Natasha was thankful no one objected to the plan; she wouldn't have known what to say to convince them otherwise.

The next few days were a blur. Steve, Clint and Sam stayed with her and Bucky, making sure she ate something and that Bucky didn't deteriorate. Schmidt's entire nest had been cleared out that evening, and checking it a few times afterward netted the other fighters some stragglers. Bruce found all of Zola's research, which fascinated and sickened him at the same time. "Such loss of life," he had murmured, "even when he didn't think something would work. He just didn't care. Human or vampire, none of it mattered to him. He just wanted to see if he could do it." Bruce's voice had faltered as he took in Natasha's devastated expression. "I think I can engineer a virus to reverse the vampirism, though. Zola seems to have managed to sequence it. I'm conferencing with Jane and Erik, and we should be able to put something together."

But it wouldn't matter if Bucky didn't wake.

Natasha curled up next to him, his body unnaturally cool and still. Even when he slept before, there was some movement. He was warmer than an actual corpse, at least, so she had to think that this was some kind of vampire coma. She played music, read to him, spun stories of the life they could live together. It was possibly a masochistic endeavor, but she found herself smiling through her tears as she described the wedding she imagined for them, the children they would have, the terrible jokes they would make, the places they could someday visit. "It's going to happen," she told his still body. "All you have to do is wake up and come back to me. Steve's going to be the best man, of course, and Clint will be my man of honor. So you have to wake up, Bucky. We can't disappoint everyone."

Was it pathetic? She didn't care. This was pain, devastation and intangible hope all rolled into one, the pain of love that she hadn't wanted to experience again. But if this was the price for knowing Bucky, for feeling as alive as she had... She'd pay it. Without question, she would always pay it, just to have the time she did get.

Some rumbling noises woke her up. Her stomach rumbling? She was hungry and sore all the time, but curling up around Bucky's body and eating at odd hours likely would do that. Sitting up, Natasha rubbed at her eyes.

And Bucky was staring back at her, lips crooked into a lopsided smile. "Hey, you."

She launched herself at him, sobbing in relief. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured, stroking her hair, fingers getting tangled in the snarls. "I told you, death just doesn't take with me."

"Stupid idiot," she sobbed against his neck. "You scared me half to death."

"I could hear you, you know," he said softly. "All of you. And all the things you said while I was sleeping, all the plans you had for us..."

Natasha pulled back and searched his expression. "And?"

"Yes, I'll marry you. I'll let you make an honest man of me."

She laughed and cried at the same time, holding him as tightly as she could. "You're never leaving me again, got it? I never want to go through this again."

"Not my intention, Natasha," he told her. They kissed, desperate and emotional, as if they could manage to slide inside each others' skin. "I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too, Bucky," she murmured. "For better or for worse, as long as this takes us."

"I'm hoping forever," he replied, that loopy smile on his face.

"Sounds good to me," Natasha said, throwing her arms around him and kissing him again. There was the sound of someone dropping something on the floor, a startled gasp, then running feet. The rest of the tower would know soon enough that Bucky was awake. Celebration would be in order, and she would ask for a few days off to recover from this. Preferably in a locked bedroom with Bucky all to herself. She doubted she would ever get her fill of him, and she hoped she would be able to get quiet couple time with him.

Bruce would work on his new formula. Maybe Bucky would decide to take it, maybe he wouldn't. Either way, he was solidly part of the team now, and they would all defend the shadows from the monsters at night.

And really, she couldn't ask for more.

The End


End file.
